


Mysteries Explicit and Inherent

by NyxEtoile, OlivesAwl



Series: Tales From the Tower [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Disabled Character, Disabled Character of Color, Domestic Avengers, F/M, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Avengers need therapy, Therapy, long series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 59,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxEtoile/pseuds/NyxEtoile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlivesAwl/pseuds/OlivesAwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lani braced her elbows on the arms of her chair and wove her fingers together loosely. "What can I do for you, Mr. Wilson?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"The Avengers require a large support staff, including caring for some really, really unique medical needs. Mental health care is kind of a. . .gap we've got going on. I fill it at the moment but I'm way out of my depth. The level of discretion and clearance and tolerance for certain personalities required makes the job nearly impossible to find somebody for."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"And I have a well earned reputation for dealing with people with large personalities and big secrets." He nodded and she waited a beat before asked, "Are you here to offer me a job as the Avengers' shrink?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Well, there are a couple other people that want to meet you before it's official. But yeah. Pretty much."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the long awaited Sam story! We have wanted to do something with Sam for ages. And we've been thinking the Avengers need a therapist for even longer. Finally the two ideas coalesced into something amazing. We hope you like the result.
> 
> Title is from a Dar William song called "What Do You Hear in These Sounds?" a very pretty song about going to therapy and being the better for it.

Sam had had the same conversation three times in a row. They were casual and friendly, not anybody requesting anything on a professional level. Steve worried about Sharon. Darcy worried about Pepper. Zev worried about Wanda.

He had the same answer. Talking to somebody helped—like an actual professional and not just him. There was an ocean between running a therapy group and actually treating Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which at _least_ half the team had. Himself included.

It was Zev who actually said it out loud—in as much as someone who speaks ASL does, anyway. "Who on earth could she possibly talk to about telepathically absorbing other people's nightmares?"''

Sam sighed. "That's a very valid point." Wanda was the most extreme example of what was, in his mind, a problem affecting all of them. It was the same problem that was pretty rampant in the military, just on a larger, weirder scale. When your problems involved national security, it was hard to find someone qualified to listen to you that you would trust. Therapy required openness and honesty and the certainty that what you were saying wouldn't leave that room. They were not a group that trusted easily.

It still didn't change the facts. "We need a team psychiatrist."

Maria Hill sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "Who's about to destroy the earth today?"

"Nobody, yet." He folded his arms over his chest. "Though—not to put too fine a point on it—I have been saying this since before the last time manifestations of a team members' mental health issues nearly did just that."

"And I still don't disagree. But the same arguments apply now that did then. In fact, they're worse since one of our team is now _literally_ a state secret."

"She's also maybe our biggest time bomb."

Maria blew out a breath and looked out her window, twirling her pen through her fingers. "Any psychiatrist we bring on would need to be vetted and cleared at pretty much the highest possible level. I'm talking about someone the secret service would allow the president to talk to. They'd need to be full time, on staff. Someone who isn't intimidated by Tony Stark or Captain America or the possibility that the Hulk will show up to a session one day. If you can find someone with those qualifications, who is willing to uproot their life to come to Ithaca, then I'll hire them. Happily."

He sat in one of her chairs. Hill had, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable guest chairs of anyone in the building. "Manhattan would have been an easier sell."

She made a face. "Trust me, I know. But now is not the time to start making noise about moving back to civilization."

"There's this person I've heard about. Mostly it’s whispers and mumblings. Supposedly they call him in when shit's gone really sideways for important people and nobody wants it on the record. If President Ellis had needed someone to talk to about the Mandarin almost turning him into a human torch, that's who'd have done it."

"That certainly sounds promising. Assuming he's real." She snapped her fingers. "And that reminds me. Pepper's tried to get Tony to see a real therapist a few times. I'm sure she's got a list of candidates somewhere, might be a good place to start as well."

"I will ask her, thank you." He'd ask Jess, her EA. Pepper was on partial bedrest for a difficult pregnancy and they all tried not to bother her too much. "Rhodey probably knows how I can find the Black Ops Shrink." 

"Sounds like you have a plan. Keep me posted when you find someone and I can do a prelim vetting before you make contact. And I'd be careful who on the team you mention this to. It's gonna be a hard sell and I'd rather have the fight once, when we have a candidate."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah. Was only gonna run it past the medical types, in case they know anyone." 

Maria nodded. "Good call. Amanda will almost certainly want to be part of the process. And if you're looking at psychiatrist and not psychologist she needs to be on board for prescriptions, right?"

"It's the other way around. Psychiatrists have MDs, Psychologists usually PhD's. Or a Master's, but this crowd is going to need someone they can call Dr. Something or Other." Though now that he thought about it, counseling was a more important specialty than prescribing. Hill was correct that Amanda could write scripts on recommendation should that come up. He waved a hand. "I'll talk to Doc."

She nodded again, in the way that indicated she considered the conversation over. "Keep me posted."

He hiked across the compound to where he'd left his car parked outside the little neighborhood everyone had taken to calling Avengerville. There was a plot of land over there with his name on it, but the military had cured him of any desire to live and work in the same place. Privacy was his favorite thing about life as a civilian.

It was probably an overstatement to say he liked the cold and snow, but he didn't mind it. It reminded him of home, and was a damn sight better than the desert.

So instead of letting Tony Stark build him a custom brand new house, he bought creaky, drafty, 150-year-old house that had been last renovated in 1972. But it had enough land you couldn't see the neighbors—kind of a life goal after growing up in a row house and spending his adulthood in barracks and tents. Fixing it kept him busy. Steve thought he was nuts.

Bucky and Clint understood though. They'd come out to help him with a couple projects. The three of them had surprisingly compatible opinions on wood stain.

Avengerville was a little cluster of new construction with one old farmhouse sitting by the lake. The Maximoff twins had claimed the old house because at least someone in this little group respected history. The rest of the houses were gorgeous, of various styles, which was the only thing that kept it from looking like TV suburb. He waved in the general direction of the Bartons, in case Clint was in his tower.

The roads were messy and it was fully dark when he got home. He sent out a couple of emails about about his search, nuked some dinner, ignored a phone call from his sister because she wanted to talk about her wedding, and put on the TV. Most of the time, being a superhero was very, very mundane.

In the morning, he got three emails back. Pepper's assistant sent the name of a woman who was apparently a favorite of the tech industry big-wigs. Zev sent back the inquiry he'd forwarded to his mother—who was the head of psychiatry at a large New York hospital—with somebody she knew of and recommended. And Rhodey even replied, though all he had was a phone number.

It only took him a moment to notice all three of these were the _same_ person. 

He reached for his cell phone and called Darcy Bennett. "Hi," he said when she answered. "I need a flight to San Francisco."

*

"- it's just that sometimes I swear I hear my father's voice coming out of my mouth and it just. . . sends chills through me."

Leilani Yee listened to the CFO of the biggest photo sharing site in the world talk about his fears of turning into his abusive father and wondered if she had enough data to write a paper on the correlation between abusive parents and successful businessmen. Because that, addictive tendencies, and depression made up a good solid line of her own personal Dysfunctional Executive Bingo card. 

"Duncan," she said, when he'd finished his story. "Do you think your father every worried he was a good dad?"

He shook his head sharply. "No. He was always certain that he was right and the rest of the world could go to hell."

Leilani waited for the flicker of realization and self depreciating smile to cross his face before adding, "I think that worrying about becoming your father is an understandable and common fear in adults who have survived abuse. And, to be honest, checking in with yourself that way can be healthy. Parenting is a hard, stressful job with a lot of emotional investment. Taking a step back to look at it objectively is necessary. But it has to be objective."

Duncan nodded slowly. "It's just hard to stop hearing his voice."

 Well, that was another matter entirely, one they'd been pecking at on and off since he'd started coming to see her five months ago. But he was worried about his parenting now so that's what she'd focus on. "Here's what I suggest." She didn't generally give her clients homework, but Duncan liked a project, a physical task to ground him. "I'm sure you have tons of pictures of you and your kids?" He nodded. "Why don't you go through them and pull out your favorites. Get them to help, talk about the memories they bring up. Then have them made into an album - maybe even two, one for here and one for home - and when you're feeling this way or hearing that nagging doubt, pull it out. And remind yourself that you're actually doing a really good job. And cut yourself some slack."

He smiled, for the first time since he'd started the session. "That actually sounds like a lot of fun. Bennie is just getting interested in stories about when he was a baby."

"Six is a fun age. You said he's going to try for Little League in the spring?"

Duncan enthusiastically told her all about his son's athletic abilities and the new piano teacher they'd found for his daughter until Lani's watch buzzed to tell her their time was up.

"I'll need to call you about the next session," he said as he walked her to the elevators. "The IPO is coming up and I'll be swamped."

Lani brought her wheelchair to a stop while he leaned to push the button for her. "That's fine. Just drop me a text. We can even squeeze in a video chat if you need to."

"That would be great. Thank you." The doors slid open and he waited for her to roll in and turn around before waving. Lani took a deep breath as the doors slid shut, rolling her shoulders. This had been her last session. Now all she had to do was head home, heat up some dinner and -

Her phone buzzed just as she was reaching the parking lot and she groaned when she saw it was the office. She briefly flirted with the thought of not answering, but responsibility ran in her blood as strong as tone deafness and a love of spicy food, so she gave in and hit the button.

"Hi, sorry," Dina said. "I know you're off for the day, but there's a guy here who wants to speak with you. I told him I could find him time tomorrow, but he says he came from back east." Dina was the receptionist at the office Lani shared with two other psychologists. Usually she was an excellent gate keeper.

"Is he a patient?"

"He says he's not, but won't say more." There was a rustle and then, in a whisper, "He looks really familiar. And hot. Maybe he's an actor or model or something?"

Well, now her interested was piqued. She checked her watch. "I'm going to hit the beginning of traffic. Tell him it'll be about twenty minutes. Try not to flirt too hard."

“Oh, stop it."

Traffic on 101 was as nasty as ever, with seemingly every person in Silicon Valley cramming themselves on a relatively short stretch of road. The run between Google and Stanford was perpetually a parking lot during rush-hour. Even the carpool lane wasn't that helpful, though she was still glad to be in it. Having the client list she did had its perks. Not everybody could get a custom-fitted electric vehicle. It sure as hell beat the awkwardly modified Dodge Caravan with a rusty ramp she'd once driven.

She pulled into the lot almost half an hour after she'd left Duncan's but if the mystery man had flown in from back east surely he could wait an extra eight minutes. After a quick touch up on her lip stick and some hair and clothes fussing she rolled out of the car and up the ramp into the building. Her office was on the first floor, right off the wood paneled lobby. She gave a little nod to the security guard hanging out by the koi pond and let herself in, peeling her gloves off.

Dina was behind her desk. And her visitor was in one of the waiting room chairs, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, hands folded neatly over his middle, leaning against the wall and apparently napping. He was all muscle.

In her peripheral vision, Dina was making a "see what I mean?" gesture.

He was, indeed, hot. And very familiar. She nodded and gestured and Dina cleared her throat. "Sir? Dr. Yee is here."

He sat up immediately and opened his eyes, making her wonder if he hadn't been actually asleep. Now she was grateful Dina hadn't _said_ anything. He did blink at her in surprise, though. She assumed it was the chair, no one ever expected that. He recovered quickly, in any case. "Hi," he said with a smile that only contributed to his distracting attractiveness. "Got a minute?"

"I have several." She gestured to her office door and waited for him to stand before giving her wheels a shove to coast over.

He sat on her couch, and held out a hand. "Sam Wilson."

The name rang a bell, too, though she still couldn't place it. She shook his hand. "Leilani Yee, but you know that. Can I get you coffee or water or anything?"

"No, but thank you." He leaned back against the couch. You could tell a lot about people from their body language. This guy, she thought, had nerves of vibranium.

The reference sparked her memory, and the recognition. He was an Avenger.

Oh, she was going to give Dina _such_ a hard time for not recognizing an Avenger. She was pretty sure she had Captain America underoos. 

She braced her elbows on the arms of her chair and wove her fingers together loosely. "What can I do for you, Mr. Wilson?"

"I'm looking for someone with a particular skill set, and you come _very_ highly recommended. In fact, everyone I asked. . .the only name I got was yours."

"It's good to know I have so many happy clients. But you told Dina you weren't a patient."

"I'm not. I was wondering if you'd be interested in discussing a job."

It was on the tip of her tongue to point out she had a job. But there was an Avenger in her office who had flown out from New York to see her. It didn't seem the time to be snarky. "I'm listening."

"Is the rumor you treated the former President true?"

Without missing a beat, she said, "I don't discuss my clients with anyone without their permission." Which was probably an implicit confirmation but she doubted he'd have asked if her wasn't 99% sure it was true.

In any case, it seemed to be the answer he was looking for. "The Avengers require a large support staff, including caring for some really, really unique medical needs. Mental health care is kind of a. . .gap we've got going on. I fill it at the moment but I'm way out of my depth. The level of discretion and clearance and tolerance for certain personalities required makes the job nearly impossible to find somebody for."

"And I have a well earned reputation for dealing with people with large personalities and big secrets." He nodded and she waited a beat before asked, "Are you here to offer me a job as the Avengers' shrink?"

"Well, there are a couple other people that want to meet you before it's official. But yeah. Pretty much."

She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting in her head to get her heartbeat back under control. "Would that require a move to New York?"

"Yeah, that's probably the biggest downside. Sunny Ithaca." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We got kicked out of Manhattan. Well, technically just the Hulk did, but we all followed. It's a really nice facility, though. There are research opportunities if that's your thing."

Research wasn't really a bigger draw than being a psychologist to superheroes. "I have current clients I would need to still treat in some capacity. Though for the most part I can do it via video chat."

"We could make accommodations for that. There's probably going to be a lot of downtime, and we have jets."

"What does the rest of the team think of this?"

"Doc approves. The rest of them generally listen to her."

Which meant the rest of them didn't know and at least some of them would not be on board. Completely unsurprising, given what she knew of the people on the roster. "I'd like to sleep on it, but I'm certainly interested."

He smiled, and lifted one shoulder. "Come out and meet us. See what you think." 

She clicked her tongue. "I don't know. I hear some of you are rather charming. You might try to sway my perfectly logical decision making."

"I'll tell Thor to keep his shirt on," he replied.

"That would help," she said with a chuckle. "I don't have plans for the weekend."

"If you're of the spontaneous nature, you could fly back with me."

Lani couldn't remember the last time she'd done something spontaneous. Her life generally required at least _some_ planning. So she had no idea why she said, "When are you flying out?"

"It's a private jet, it's flexible. I can wait."

She rolled back to her desk and checked her day planner. "I need to make a couple phone calls. But I could be ready to go tomorrow afternoon."

He tilted his head back and forth. "I can make that happen." He paused. "Is there anything good to do around here?"

"That depends on what you consider 'good.' San Francisco is a short drive away and is full of museums and nightlife. Palo Alto has several good restaurants and clubs. And in the south bay there's a house built by Sara Winchester that people say is haunted."

He laughed. "I love that that's the biggest attraction. Haunted house it is."

"Excellent choice."

He dug a card out of his pocket. "My number's on there. Call me when you're ready."

She glanced at it. "I'll be in touch."

"It was nice to meet you," he said, and then he let himself out of her office.

Dina appeared in the doorway a second later. "I figured out who he is!"

"An Avenger?"

"He's a-" She scowled at Lani. "Yes. What did he want?"

Lani tapped the card on her chin. "To make me an offer I can't refuse."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response for this fic has been overwhelming and awesome. We love you guys, thank so much for all the comments.

Sam didn't actually have permission to leave the quinjet where he'd parked it overnight. He made a call from the air and sort of invited himself to dinner and a guest room at the Rhodes's house in Southern California. What was the point of coworkers if you couldn't randomly and probably rudely intrude on them?

He'd feel worse but their house was enormous and they had enough land to park all manner of airplanes on. It was sunny and warm and breathtakingly beautiful down there. He couldn't blame Rhodey's wife for refusing to move to Ithaca.

"You know how many different places we've lived?" She liked to remind them—and her husband—whenever team members came to visit.

"He's heard, Ness," Rhodey said, handing a beer over the back of the couch.

"Seventeen," Vanessa said anyway. "This house." She pointed at the floor. "I'm going out of in a box."

Sam took a swig of his beer. "It would actually be a stretcher. They don't bring the box to you, they bring you to the box."

She swatted at him with a sound of exasperation. "And there won't be a speck of snow on the ground."

Rhodey sat at the other end of the long sectional. "So Dr. Redacted is a woman?"

"Apparently. Pepper was trying to get Tony to see her at one point." Tony seeing someone still remained an excellent idea. But considering how much a fight it was for Amanda to get him to look after his blood pressure—an activity that didn't involve talking about his feelings—Sam wasn't holding his breath.

"I remember that. She's broached the whole talking to a professional idea several times. For a while he insisted talking to Banner counted."

"I think he stopped when Bruce started falling asleep again. His kids are terrible sleepers."

Rhodey lifted his beer bottle in a salute of solidarity. "So you think she's on board?"

"It's a hard offer to refuse. Ithaca notwithstanding."

"Granted. But if half of the rumors about her are true, she's got quite the roster of clients. Might not be as starry eyed by the whole superhero thing."

"I was thinking more the irresistible challenge. Whomever her clients are, they're not as weird as us." They were, the two of them, the two normalest Avengers. By a long shot.

"You make a good point." He sipped his beer. "I will personally feel better knowing a professional out there keeping an eye on that little powder keg."

"Why do you think I'm doing this?"

"I assumed you were tired of being everyone's stop-gap therapist."

"Eh," he said with a sigh, glancing in the direction of the kitchen where Vanessa had gone off to. "There's stuff coming down the pike. I expect you've heard it."

"Rumblings. People tend to remember who my friends are." He lowered his voice. "How's Sharon doing?"

"She had to come back from maternity leave to fly to DC once a week so all the new Congresspeople can wave their dicks around. She can't take the baby with her because it's winter. She's tough. But she's pretty high on my list."

"I am honestly surprised that didn't end with a headline about Captain America beating up sixty eight percent of Congress."

"He's home with the baby."

"Five minutes or I give your dinner to the dog," Vanessa shouted from the kitchen.

"We're coming!" Rhodey called back, heaving himself to his feet. "Well I, and the rest of the world, wish you the best of luck."

"If this lady can't handle them, we're probably doomed."

He slept late the next morning - another perk of the civilian life - and went out for a late brunch. As he was finishing up he received a text on his phone from Dr. Yee's number. _I've cleared my schedule and can be ready to leave as early at 2pm._

_Good, I'll have just enough time to see the crazy-lady house._

_Don't bother with the grounds tour, it's really not a lot of new content for how much they charge you._

_Got it._

He made the calls he needed to get the trips back north and then east approved, said goodbye to the Rhodeses and went to check out the haunted house. It was kind of kitschy and silly, but the story behind it was interesting and the house itself was pretty cool.

Tony Stark was apparently not the only weapons manufacturer who went a little squirrelly about the blood on his hands. He texted Steve. _Google 'Winchester Mystery House'. Things could be way weirder at home is all I'm saying._

On his way back to the office he got a reply. _We must never show this to Tony._

Dr. Yee was waiting for him when he got there, parked in the little waiting area with a wheeled suitcase tied to her chair. She had on a similar outfit to yesterday, loose black pants and a sweater that looked tailored to her. And a pair of heels worthy of Pepper. She was reading a thick hardback, but glanced up when he came in and smiled.

He leaned his shoulder on the doorframe. "Nice shoes."

She smiled wider and glanced down. "Thank you." 

"Come on," he said. "I have a car service. That chair fold?" 

"It collapses, yes, but not completely flat. I hope the car has a decent trunk."

"At least two dead bodies worth." He stepped back and held open the door for her. She tucked the book next to her and rolled forward. Her suit case trailed behind her smoothly. He admired the efficiency. 

The driver came over to get the suitcase, then looked surprised to find it attached to the chair. He looked over at Sam. "How do I unhook it?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"There's a carabiner with the bungee hooked through it," Dr. Yee said pleasantly. "Pretty straight forward."

Sam reached over to unhook it himself, and handed it to the driver. "You need a boost into the car or what?"

She eyed it, assessing it for height, he imagined. "Just spot me, if you could." She rolled the the open door and found places to grip, then managed to brace herself long enough to shift over. She had to move her legs in with her hands and retrieved her book before giving him a nod to pull the chair away. He'd seen this model used by some of the vets he used to work with and managed to get it folded down quickly.

He climbed in the other side. "Fair warning, I think I am probably going to have to carry you into the jet."

She made a face and sighed. "That occurred to me last night. I suppose that's one upside to commercial flight. Ramps everywhere."

"There's a ramp on the back, but it's pretty steep. I could pull you up, but the chair won't get into the cockpit and I don't know that you want to roll around the back like a loose marble." He looked over at her. "It's not exactly a slow jet."

The mental image clearly lightened her mood. "It is what it is. I'm sure the flight will be more fun up front."

When they got there he ended up pushing her up the ramp. It probably would have been much easier to just carry her straight in, but he appreciated the supreme awkwardness of doing the Gone With the Wind thing with some dude she'd just met. He let her use his arms as a brace and she pulled herself into the co-pilot's chair on her own.

"You can do one armed pull-up, can't you?" he asked her as he folded up the chair and secured it to the wall.

"Of course," she said with a grin. "And I'm the second highest scorer on my basketball team."

"I've been to wheelchair basketball games, that shit's vicious." He climbed into his seat. "It _was_ mostly Marines."

"We do have a couple vets in the league. No Marines that I know of." She was quiet as he did his pre-flight check. "Do you miss working with vets? Or are you still in touch with any of them?"

"Ah, so you did look me up." He flipped a switch and the engines roared to life. "I'm still in touch with a couple of friends. I miss how it was before I was famous. And in a way I am still working with vets. Perhaps the world's most famous one, even."

"I may have made some calls to check up on you. Always helps to research the company before going in for an interview." She was watching what he was doing with what looked like genuine interest. "Is Captain Rogers open to real therapy? He strikes me as the stoic type."

"Surprisingly so, for someone raised in the 'Battle Fatigue is a character weakness' era. He is very private, though. Leans heavily on his wife, who I'm more worried about lately."

Most of the drama with Joey and Sharon going back to work early had been in the news recently, so he wasn't surprised she didn't need clarification. If she'd done even a basic Google on them it would have come up. She watched out the window as he got in place on the runway to take off. "I've been on private jets before, but never in the cockpit."

"This is not your average jet," he said. The tower cleared him, and instead of going forward like she probably expected, they went straight up.

She actually squeaked a little in surprise, which was kind of cute. Then she leaned over to peer out the window and watch the ground recede. "We'll be in New York in about two hours," he told her.

"Consider me impressed."

"I don't expect that's an easy thing to do."

"Not anymore, no." Bracing herself on the arm rests, she resettled herself in the seat. "I suppose that works to my advantage. It's hard to unload your secrets on someone who looks at you with awe."

"That's why you're on this plane."

*

Lani spent a lot of the trip watching the world go by, so Wilson could focus on flying. It was as fast as he'd claimed, and she got to watch the sun set from a very unique angle. It was after seven local time when they landed and what she assumed was the Avengers's compound. He once again let her use him as a brace to move from seat to chair. It had been a very long time since someone had been so blasé and understanding about her needs. She imagined that came from working with veterans.

She asked him to hold on going down the ramp, since it was steep, making a crack about driving a stick in San Francisco that made him grin. He still had a distractingly attractive smile.

There had been snow on the ground outside, but he'd rolled the jet into a hangar that was frigid but dry. Several other planes were parked in there. To the left of the jets there was a large cross-hatched box painted into the floor in fluorescent pink. "That's the Wife Line," he said, without any further clarification. Then he tipped his head back and called, "Hey, FRIDAY, any of those golf carts we can roll a wheelchair on?"

Before she could ask - or find out more about the Wife Line - a disembodied voice with an Irish accent said, "Mr. Stark did have one handicapped cart made. I am sending it over."

Lani pointed to the ceiling. "Who?"

"That's our butler. She's an AI."

Right, she was going to need to keep a neutral mask on a lot this weekend, she could just tell. A little electric cart that did, in fact, look a great deal like a closed in golf cart, cruised to a stop in front of them. Wilson put her suitcase and his overnight bag into the back and opened the door. A little ramp lowered and she was able to roll right into it. "Nice."

He climbed in and sat across from her. It was clearly self-driving. "This place is full of gizmos. I'd like to say you get used to it. Admin building," he said, apparently to the car.

"You seemed to have adapted," she pointed out. "Bit of a change from military life."

"Well. It's not like I was a grunt."

"Of course." There wasn't much to see out the window, it being dark and covered in snow. "Am I meeting someone at the Admin building?"

"Darcy Bennett has your meeting itinerary, rooming stuff, etc. Usually she meets the jet, but I thought if getting out of it ended up awkward that might not be the first impression you wanted to make."

She looked over at him. "I appreciate that, thank you."

He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Darcy is our administrative assistant, a title that doesn't really do her justice. I think her business card says Superhero Wrangler, or something like that. She's the reason anything ever goes smoothly." The car came to a stop in front of a shiny steel and glass building, and the doors slid open.

It was very new construction, and state of the art, which meant it was possibly the most accessible building she'd ever been in, including some hospitals. That was definitely a check in the plus column.

A pretty woman with a messy top knot and dark framed glasses was waiting for them, holding a data pad and a thick manilla folder. She put on a wide, possibly practiced smile when they reached them. "Dr. Yee, I'm Darcy Bennet." She stuck a hand out to shake. "Nice to meet you. I'm about to dump a ton of information on you do you need a drink or a snack before I do?"

No, not practiced. That seemed to just be Darcy. "I'm fine as long as a meal is on the agenda at some point."

"Totally. I'm big on keeping blood sugar levels up."

"A lot of people here forget to eat," Wilson said. "Which I personally don't understand, but it happens."

"Cafeteria is still open," Darcy said. "We can multitask. Follow me."

They headed down a big, well lit hallway lined with windows. They showed nothing but dark right now, but Lani approved of the access to natural light. Few things ruined a mood like a poorly designed office building.

"Sam said you were staying through the weekend so I tried not to overload your days," Darcy said. "Tonight we'll get you fed and in your room. We have temp housing on campus and it was built to hotel standards so there's an accessible room that's been cleaned and stocked for you. Tomorrow you'll get a quick tour of the facilities and meet with the medical people. Which is mainly just Doc, if we're being honest."

They came to double doors and Darcy pushed and held one open for Lani to roll through. "This is Dr. Newbury?"

"Yep. She'd be kind of your boss, if you came on board. She runs medical stuff for the team as well as overseeing serum research, an internship program with Cornell, consults for the bio-medical team at Stark, and is third on the Tony Minders list."

She'd been about to ask about the intern program but got sidetracked. "I'm sorry, Tony Minders?"

"Some of us look after him, some of us look after Cap," Wilson said. "They're both a lot of work."

"We're hoping you help with that."

If she didn't take this job she was going to have to help them find someone else who would.

It was a high end cafeteria. Lani got a burger that was better than some she'd had at fancy pubs back home. The french fries were especially good. Once she had some food in her, Darcy slid the folder over. "Here's our new hire information. Pay range, benefits, non-disclosure packets. I need the NDCs signed before you talk to Doc tomorrow. I doubt you'll hear anything sensitive, but you'll be in buildings with secret stuff and I like to cover my ass."

Lani skimmed it. "I'm used to that, not a problem."

"Great! So, tomorrow is Doc and Maria Hill in the morning. Assuming neither of them throws you out then you'll meet some of the team in the afternoon and next day. Doc is breaking the news to them after her interview with you."

"Sounds like fun."

"All of them have table manners," Wilson said. "Even, usually, Tony Stark."

"Tony Stark worries me the least," she admitted, swiping a fry trough a puddle of ketchup. "That is a personality type I am extremely familiar with."

"Is there a personality type that worries you the most?"

She chewed thoughtfully a moment. "I would have said Captain Rogers, but you said he was open to it. I suppose the two snipers. That is a career that does not lend itself to talkers."

"Barnes won't be too bad. Barton will probably just stare at you for 55 minutes."

"You would be amazed how many sessions I've had like that."

"You'll get along fine here," Darcy said. She checked her watch. "How about we go get you settled in your digs?"

With one last swig of her iced tea, she nodded. "Sounds good. I'd like some time to read this over."

"Well, I leave you in excellent hands," Wilson said. "I'll see you around tomorrow."

She ignored the quiet pang she felt at him leaving. It was silly and she knew all the psychological roots of it. But he was familiar and she was somewhere very odd and losing that felt like a bad thing. Still, she smiled and nodded. "Thanks. Have a good night."

He grinned, and turned and strolled out of the cafeteria. Darcy hopped up. "Don't worry. Everybody's nice." She paused. "Well, sort of. I'm nice. Doc is nice, though when you meet her you'll expect she won't be. Hill is all business and doesn't like small talk, but she's a pretty hilarious drunk so we forgive her."

Lani tugged her gloves back on so she could push herself away from the table and follow Darcy out. "I'll remember that when talking to her. And I'm looking forward to meeting everyone who's willing to talk to me."

The electric cart was waiting to take them over to the housing building. The walk was slushy and covered with sand and salt, which was splashing up on the insides of her arms as she rolled. She'd need to get winter gloves and a whole host of gear if she took the job. She could get frostbite in her feet in this weather and wouldn't even notice. 

The suite inside was nice and warm. The same Irish voice from the hangar said, "Welcome, Dr. Yee."

"Hi, FRIDAY, was it?"

"Yes, doctor. If you require anything, or have any questions feel free to ask and I will be happy to help."

Darcy pointed upward. "Pretty much that. There's food in the fridge and you can watch pretty much any channel or movie you can think of on the TV. FRIDAY will connect your laptop and whatnot to the internet. The cafeteria opens at six, if you want breakfast. Otherwise, I'll be by at nine for your tour and to introduce you to Doc."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll be ready."


	3. Chapter 3

Sam didn't want to live in the compound, but it had a lot of land and some great running trails thanks to the preponderance of runners among the team. In this kind of weather—fifteen with a wind chill at dawn—almost nobody would be out. Below freezing a lot of them preferred a treadmill, particularly Steve. It was usually just Zev, and occasionally Pietro would blow by in a blur. It was quiet, and gave him time to think. 

He went to the gym after for the back half of his workout. Nat had been making all of them do some fairly brutal gymnastics routines lately. It didn't bother him, given the sort of things he did in the wings, but it seemed to be killing the rest of them. 

Wanda was laying on the mat, glaring upwards and complaining about how she didn't need this because she could levitate. "I have sex upside down on the ceiling. That should be enough."

"Gross," Pietro complained. "I don't need to hear about that."

"All I'm hearing is whining," Nat called. She sounded more and more like a Russian Figure Skating Coach with each passing day. "But fine, take five minutes."

Wanda flicked her fingers and made a small fireworks display appear above her. Across the gym the doors opened and Darcy came in with Dr. Yee, apparently giving her tour.

"-gym.There's another one that's for the non-team members-" She broke off when she saw the fireworks. "There are less pyrotechnics there. Maximoff, I swear to God if you set off the sprinklers again-"

"They're nowhere near the sensors!" Wanda protested.

"That's okay, she's apparently dying," Nat called. "So it will stop soon."

Dr. Yee looked very amused, and not at all starstruck, which impressed him. Wanda's light show wasn't particularly normal. He waved when he caught her eye. He hoped she didn't come any closer, he probably smelled like a gym locker. Why that should worry him he didn't know.

She smiled and waggled her fingers at him. Darcy was still teasing Wanda and no one was paying her much mind. She pointed to the pull-up bar to his left, flexed one bicep and winked.

That made him laugh, which made Wanda look at him with that look of hers. He ignored it. He had enough groupies to sink a ship—only single Avenger left and all—he did not need to be interested in this woman he was trying to hire. That would be weird. 

"Right," Darcy said, breaking his train of thought. "Beat 'em up good, Nat." She pushed the door open again and then they were gone. The big clock on the wall said it was quarter to ten, so she was probably meeting with Amanda soon.

He had a shower after training and an unnecessarily greasy lunch. Early afternoon it seemed reasonable to wander over to the medical building and see what Amanda had thought. He found her wrapping up a conversation with one of her med students. She gestured for him to wait and in a few minutes the intern left and he slipped in.

"Checking up on your recruit?" she asked, taking a swig from a travel mug of what he was sure was hot tea.

"She was really hard to find," he said by way of explanation.

"I bet. She gave me a list of people who are willing to give her references and if I was a less ethical person I could make a fortune selling the fact that they see a psychologist." She set her mug down and rifled through the mess on her desk before pulling out what looked like a page of notes. "I like her. She's clearly very good at what she does and certainly has the right temperament for dealing with us all."

"That was my sense as well. She doesn't seem phased by the whole. . .superhero thing."

"Exactly. I've spoken to two of her references and they both spoke highly of her, especially her discretion. And these are men that would value that highly. I think she's a great fit and told Maria as much. I haven't heard back from her about their meeting, but I expect to be making an awkward announcement to the team this afternoon."

"You want help with that? Since this was my idea and all."

"I would appreciate if you were there to take the hit for any tomatoes they throw, yes."

"I will guard you with my life," he said. 

"James will appreciate the help."

There was a knock at the door and Maria stepped in. "Oh, good. You're here too. Good find with the new doc."

"New doc?" Amanda put a hand to her chest, feigning horror. "I'm not okay with that."

"You have a capital D. She has a lowercase d." She paused. "We can find another nickname."

"Rhodes calls her Dr. Redacted," Sam said. "That's what's in the military files. A blacked-out last name and a phone number."

Maria tilted her head. "I like that. We should probably give her a nickname soon or Tony's going to call her Wheels and open us up to a lawsuit. By which I mean we should hire her, if we haven't already." 

"Of all the things that he could say, Wheels is probably pretty mild. And aren't you the one who'd make the offer?"

"I wanted to touch base with you two and make sure the team knew and hopefully at least a couple met her." She looked at Amanda. "Who do you think? Steve? Nat?"

"That's where I'd start. Wanda might want to meet her, if not do an actual interview. FRIDAY, could you tell the Avengers team we're having a meeting at three thirty in the conference room and I'm ordering them to come."

"All of them?" FRIDAY asked. Sam liked that the AI had finally acquired some of JARVIS's dry sarcasm. He supposed nobody could interact with Tony Stark that much without developing that sort of tone.

"Everyone with a call sign and a wacky outfit. Spouses and children are not required."

"Not all of the outfits are wacky," Sam said. He really liked his.

"I have sent messages to all named team members," FRIDAY reported. "Mr. Stark is in Manhattan, Col. Rhodes is in California, and Mr. Barton turned the sensors off in their house again."

Amanda closed her eyes and sighed. "Nat will deal with Clint, I'm not worried about Rhodey and Tony is probably best dealt with one-on-one anyway."

Telling the team wasn't that bad after all. Maybe they knew they had issues. Maybe they were most of them afraid of Doc. Wanda hugged him at the end of the meeting. "It's been getting harder."

"I know," he told her. "That's part of why."

"She was the woman with Darcy this morning? In the wheelchair?"

"Yes. Didn't seem phased by your pyrotechnics."

"Yes." She smiled her little enigmatic smile. "She has a good heart and dark fears. She'll fit in just fine."

He didn't doubt that for a second.

After the meeting, he wondered if Lani would like a familiar face after a day of strangers, and texted her to see if she wanted to get dinner.

The response was almost immediate and accompanied by a grinning emoticon. _Yes, please._

_Cafeteria. It's burrito night._ He still thought of it as the Mess, but had been forcing himself to use the civilian word just so this felt less like a military unit. Even if it kind of was.

_I'll meet you there._

The burrito station had kind of a line, so it took a while to get the food. He coaxed the guys behind the counter into giving them some chips to munch on while they waited and he asked her about her day.

"Do you know how long it's been since I had actual job interviews?" She reached over and snagged another chip. "It was nerve wracking. Dr. Newbury was lovely, I'm used to doctors. But Ms. Hill is a tough cookie. Almost unreadable. And reading people is my specialty."

"You know she used to be the deputy director of SHIELD?"

"That doesn't surprise me at all." She brushed her fingers off on a napkin. "I think she didn't hate me. That's the best I can do."

"She liked you," he said. She raised an eyebrow and he added, "She told me."

"Reassuring." She leaned back in her chair. "The benefits package is impressive."

"Did you see the clause about reimbursement for vacations canceled due to world-saving?"

"I _did_. That's very thoughtful."

"Stark is kind of an odd dude, but he's very generous." He munched on a chip. "So what do you think?"

She studied him a moment, then smiled and shook her head. "I think I'm really going to miss good sushi."

Someone tossed two burritos on their table, and Sam looked up in surprise to see Tony Stark dragging over a chair. "I won't lie, you have to go to Manhattan for it." He swung the chair around backwards and straddled it. "So you're the shrink."

Dr. Yee sat up a little. "I am. And I know who you are."

"Of course you do. My girl was trying to get me to see you for years." He reached over and stole one of Sam's chips. "You really that good?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I am very much that good."

"You ever work with anybody that's got the kind of blood on his hands that I do?"

She studied him a moment. "It's not the quantity of blood, it's the weight of it. And I have almost certainly talked with people as weighed down as you feel."

His eyes narrowed. Tony liked to be the best at everything, even grief and self flagellation. So Sam was surprised when he said, "We have people who make me look like a helium balloon."

"Good." She picked up one of her chips. "I don't worry about people who feel guilt. I worry about the ones who don't feel anything. We're supposed to feel bad about death and making difficult decisions. When that stops being true, then you have a real problem."

He seemed to think about that. Ate more of Sam's chips. Then he leaned over and looked at her chair, then back at her. "You know what it's like to survive your own death sentence, don't you?"

"I do not ride around in this because it's a good upper body workout, no."

He smacked his hand on the table and stood. "Good. Welcome to the show." He looked at the chair again for a moment, nodded to himself, and strolled off.

There was a moment of silence. Then Dr. Yee picked up her burrito and started unwrapping it. "I like him."

*

_Bruce Banner is a healthy adult male in his mid forties. He presents as soft spoken and intelligent, with several nervous habits and fidgets, bordering on tics. Articulate and well-spoken, he speaks most animatedly of his partner, Violet, and their children. When I probed about possible wedding plans, the tics surfaced again and he withdrew. While his previous discussion indicates he has no qualms with commitment (the pair have an adopted child together) the idea of marriage seems to cause significant anxiety. I suspect he attaches a sense of permanence or "officialness" to marriage and is hesitant to make that leap. Whether this is because he feels unworthy, fears leaving her in the lurch due to his job or if it is solely tied to concerns about his Hulk persona remains to be seen._

"So he's an actual voice in your head?"

Bruce gave a half smile and rolled his shoulders. "I don't think I'm supposed to admit that to a psychologist."

Lani smiled back. "I'm pretty sure he's not in the DSM anywhere."

"He used to be entirely separate. I got nothing more from him than vague senses and urges, and no memory of what he did. But he was always there. Now we have mutual awareness and sometimes he won't shut up. He likes your earrings."

She resisted the urge to touch the little mother-of-pearl plumeria blossoms. "And what is it like having a roommate in you head?"

"Weird. Better than having an angry creature randomly take over your body." He tipped his head back, eyes looking up for a moment. "At some point, you should meet him."

"When you're ready for that, I'd be happy to. Get his input on your shenanigans."

"Just as long as you don't have any potatoes. He's afraid of potatoes."

_James Barnes (Bucky) presents as an adult male in his mid thirties with a prosthetic left arm. He's charming and funny, with a clear undercurrent of black humor. He showed me a video of his daughter banging away at a toy piano within the first five minutes of the session. He is open and casual when speaking of his current life, but probing his past causes walls to immediately go up. I suspect there is a great deal of his past he has not fully dealt with, focusing on moving forward with the life he's built now._

"Edie was an accident. We kind of thought this one would happen pretty immediately, but apparently not."

"Have you talked about fertility intervention if you continue to have trouble?"

"Oh, Amanda's on it. It's only been four months, which is 'well within the bounds of normal.'" He made air quotes. "All the equipment checks out." 

"I'm sure that's reassuring for a centenarian." He grinned at that. "Do you think you define yourself more as a father now?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "This stuff—it's just work. She's what matters. The most good I've ever done in the world is make her."

The response was sincere, but almost defensive. "Have you given thought to how you'll talk to her about your past?"

His whole face changed, a vast array of emotions that would probably take a while to untangle. "Cross that bridge when I come to it," he replied, voice clipped. 

_Clint Barton is an adult male in his forties (which I only know because I have access to his medical files, he has a weathered, ageless face) in excellent physical health. He is clearly not onboard the therapy train. While not overtly hostile, he was uninterested in speaking to me and remained silent for the majority of our session. I suspect this is the last time I'll see him in my office._

"It's good you're here," he said as he stood to go.

Lani had been playing the score of Les Mes in her head and actually jumped a little. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

"A lot of them had their heads fucked with. Takes a while to sort out. Somebody trustworthy would have been good, back when it happened to me." He didn't elaborate, and she knew he wouldn't.

She nodded and decided to press, just a bit. "Well, if any of that ever comes up again for you, you know where to find me."

He grinned widely and shook his head.

_Natasha Barton is a healthy adult woman in her mid-thirties. She exudes an air of confidence and self assurance. She is clearly comfortable in her leadership role in the team and speaks highly of those she's training. She is far less at home speaking of herself and would probably prefer to just be a co-therapist for the rest of the team than to actually deal with any of her own issues. The picture she paints of her husband is far different than the man who came to my office and it's clear that, for the most part, they've been each other's support system for a long time._

"Clint says another cat would officially make me a cat lady, but Amanda and Bucky have two and he got _chickens_ so I think he's full of it."

"Have you thought about fostering? Or even breeding cats? You'd get the joy of having them, but a rotating population might be easier for him to handle."

"I think that might be more crazy cat lady. Especially because I'm pretty sure we'll keep them all. At Clint's behest, but somehow they'll be mine and he'll use is as grounds to get a goat."

Lani really wished she'd talked to Nat before Clint, she'd have had a much better idea of how to draw him out. "Well, if the opinion of a near-stranger matters, I think you should get another cat."

"Can I still hold the line on farm animals?"

"I feel like that's a reasonable line. But if he starts talking about cows or pigs you might want to consider the goat a compromise. Or rabbits. My aunt used to raise rabbits and sell their fur."

"I'd never be able to look Ada in the eye again." 

"No, no, you don't kill them. It's like sheep, you shave them."

"Huh," She tiled her head. "If we got sheep Amanda could knit things with the wool."

They were going to get farm animals and it was totally going to be her fault. "It's good to have a back-up plan if the whole superhero thing doesn't work out."

_Cal Bennett is a adult male of 30 who is in remarkable health given his history. He was trapped under a collapsed building for two days and received catastrophic injuries (including an incomplete T5 SCI), and has recovered exceptionally well. He received signifiant psychotherapy after his injury. He is self aware and emotionally stable. He has ongoing issues with his parents and sister I expect to surface more as he embarks on starting a family of his own._

"The only thing I could feel from the ribs down was my left toenail. It really didn't seem worth mentioning at the time. You can imagine how that went down."

"I was unconscious for most of the early diagnostic work," she replied. "To hear my mother tell it she was already picking out the casket, but my father felt the doctors were upbeat throughout, all things considered."

"My mother had her martyr cross out and was ready to care for her invalid son until her dying day." He sounded more amused than bitter, but Lani was pretty sure it had taken him a while to come to it. "She was very attentive. At the time I was desperate for her to give me five minutes alone with the doctor so I could ask him about that things that I felt—as a 25 year old guy—were more important than walking."

She laughed. "I was seventeen. I was well out of the hospital and in the midst of my PT before I had enough privacy to have that conversation. The doctor actually tried to start a couple times and my mother insisted that it 'wasn't important.'"

"I never got to asking. With men things are a little more. . .self evident." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, that's way TMI."

She held up a hand. "There's no such thing in this room. Seriously. I have heard it all."

"Not long after the injury, somebody comes to talk to me. Tells me they want to make sure I know my life is still worth living. I'm on a morphine drip and high as a kite so I reply that I think life is _great_. They checked their box and went on their way. Long gone by the time my bones healed and I had to face what happened without a haze of opiates."

Lani propped her chin on her fist. "What got you through?"

"Change of scenery, zoloft, and a nice therapist. I spent two days in the dark waiting to die. That's not something somebody can carry alone." He smiled. "Though I'll tell ya, there were still plenty of cracks I couldn't quite fill until I met Darcy."

"She speaks highly of you, as well. Anything coming up now that you're trying to have a baby?"

"Undoubtedly. I'll keep you busy."

"I'm just glad someone is happy to see me."

_Darcy Bennet is a healthy adult woman in her late twenties. Clearly intelligent and personable with a quick humor and blunt demeanor. She is very open to therapy for herself and the team. She has a positive, realistic outlook on life and her current place in it. She and her husband have recently stopped using birth control. She has only recently come into contact with her father, after not knowing his identity for the majority of her life. Dealing with him and his family, as well as her mother's negative reaction to her making contact are exacerbating her anxiety about potentially becoming a mother._

"Like, I'm around all the other kids and I see the ladies being moms so it's not the day-to-day stuff. I think it's just the big picture, being responsible for another life form with no instruction manual thing."

Treating Darcy was going to be a lesson in following very convoluted trains of thought. "Parenting books are a multi million dollar industry."

"Yeah, but the contradict each other. Hover, don't hover. Sleep train, co sleep. Disposable diapers, let 'em run naked in the yard."

Clearly, she'd been researching. "I think you need to find what works for you. Kids are surprisingly resilient, you can make a mistake here and there."

"Well, that seems true. Look at how Cal and I came out."

"A lot of adults with difficult childhoods find closure in becoming parents themselves. It's difficult, but if you want it, it's usually worth it."

"He'll be a good dad," she said. "Not just an adequate dad, but like a really good one. I feel like the universe needs children who had Cal as their dad."

"It almost sounds like you think you'll just be along for the ride."

"I am going to, you know, grow them. Which is _really_ weird if you think about it."

"A lot of pregnancy is weird," she conceded. "As I'm sure you've heard from the assortment of mothers."

"One thing we don't lack for is advice."

"That's for sure. Remember to take it all with a grain of salt. And listen to your own instincts as well."

She grinned. "Mine are usually better than most people's."

_Jane Foster is a healthy adult woman in her late 30's. She's intense about her work, and remarkably blasé about the fact that she's married to an Asgardian prince. She's also been possessed by an alien force of immeasurable power, and is widely considered a likely candidate for a Nobel Prize. She is blasé about this as well._

"He wouldn't believe me. Apparently all Asgardian women have some sort of c-section."

"That doesn't seem like a sustainable model."

"That's what Amanda said, but apparently it's pretty straight forward when your society is based on magic-tech."

Jane was quickly making Lani's list of people she'd like to just have coffee with. "It would take some of the stress and worry out of pregnancy, to have the ending already decided."

"We showed him Miracle of Birth videos on Youtube."

"That seems unusually cruel," Lani said, laughing.

_Ada Marsh is a nine year old girl with no health concerns. She is clearly very intelligent and well-spoken and seems quite comfortable when speaking with adults. She has a clearly developed sense of right and wrong and a literal minded way of looking at the world. Her mother reports both of these traits were evident from an early age, but expressed concern that recent traumas and upheaval had exacerbated them._

"And then in The Last Battle, they say that Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia, because she's more interested in make-up and boys. So the rest of the siblings stay forever but she doesn't get to go? Narnia is clearly an allegory for Heaven, so what is Lewis trying to say? Women don't get to go to heaven? Liking make-up makes you immoral? What kind of message is that?“

Lani had never, in her life, seen someone this worked up over The Chronicles of Narnia. "I think Susan is supposed to represent those who've become distracted or turned their back on their faith. He doesn't say she's cast out of Narnia forever, just that she's not sufficiently devoted right then."

Ada looked even more scandalized. "So she has to watch her siblings and cousin die in a train accident? How is that appropriate retribution."

"I don't agree with it, necessarily. I was merely offering an alternate interpretation." Ada huffed and crossed her arms, looking un convinced. So Lani tried a different tact. "How would you end it?"

"What?"

"If you feel Susan's canon ending is unfair, how would you change it? Reading and watching movies is a two way street. The author presented his interpretation, but you are at your discretion to ignore it and fill in the blanks yourself. Give Susan a happy ending. Either after the train accident or by changing it entirely. I can honestly say I would love to read Ada Marsh's ending."

Ada turned that over in her mind for a few moments. "I have some issues with the end of The Secret Garden, as well."

_Neil Marsh is a healthy six year old boy who has been assessed as being on the Autism Spectrum. Due to early intervention he presents only slightly below his physical age. His interests involve cars, robots and math. He is remarkably well adjusted and while he is aware of the oddities of his life, seems unfazed by them. To him, it is perfectly normal that he lives with superheroes, alien gods, and an android._

"What are you building with your dad this week?"

Neil paused as if searching for the words. He'd managed to stay seated for most of his visit, feet dangling over the edge of his chair. "Wind turbine."

"How's it coming?"

"Slow. I want to try a new project, but Dad says I have to stick to the end."

"Is it hard to stick to the end?"

He shrugged. "Too many ideas, all at once. And only one of me." He paused again, then sighed. "Dad says no cloning." Before Lani could answer he looked up at her. "Uncle Tony cloned his son."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More team assessments to come! Breaking up these chapters was tricky.


	4. Chapter 4

_Violet Marsh is a healthy adult woman in her late thirties. Mother of three, she has clearly embraced the role of "Team Mom" for the group. She is intuitive and patient and seems to have been doing as much unofficial therapy as Sam Wilson. She will be an asset in sorting out some of the dynamics here, but I think getting her to open up about her own problems and concerns will be more difficult. She's clearly used to shouldering burdens alone and may not initially know how to let that go._

"We're going to need to build a building and hire a staff. I'm not Mary Poppins enough to handle that many."

"Would you then take on more of an administrative position? Overseeing other caretakers?"

"I don't entirely know. Paperwork is not exactly my favorite hobby. Financially I don't need to work. But they need me."

"Well, they need someone. It doesn't necessarily have to be you." Violet tilted her head in confusion so Lani continued, "You took the job watching Ruby for financial reasons and to get help for Neil. As you said, that's taken care of. The expansion of child care might be a good opportunity for you to find your passion again."

Violet tipped her head back. Clearly that hadn't occurred to her. "I haven't taught in so long, I'm not sure I'd want to get back into it."

"Then pursue a different path. You were looking into a Masters when your husband died. You could go back to school, try out new hobbies." She paused. "It's important not to lose yourself to your obligations."

"That's true. But probably universally a hard sell with this crowd."

"That is almost certainly part of why I'm here."

_Ora Martinez is an adult woman in her mid-thirties who is, at the moment, nine weeks pregnant. She has a great deal of emotion below the surface that she covers beneath humor and sarcasm. Her life was torn apart and very publicly exposed, and event that caused signifiant trauma. At the moment it is hard to differentiate between long-term issues and the emotional instability that's caused by pregnancy hormones._

"Sometimes I want to jump him and sometimes I want to punch him in the face. Sometimes both at the same time."

This was not the time to smile, so Lani smothered it. "Which urge usually wins?"

"Depends on the day."

"Fair enough. Do you think you'd benefit from some couples sessions? Having a neutral party can take some of the pressure out of conflicts."

"I. . . am not sure talking about his feelings with strangers is really Pietro's thing. He's kind of old-school for how young he is. He spends a lot of time with Clint and Bucky lately. I think he's learning how to stare stoically."

That was a trio whose conversations were either non-existent or utterly fascinating. "Do you disapprove of him spending time with them?"

She laughed. "No, they're good for him. I actually think they're a very settling influence. I think he's simultaneously thrilled about the baby and freaking the hell out."

"I imagine he's in dire need of a father figure, especially at a time like this."

"They sit up in that turret and drink a lot of beer."

_Pietro Maximoff is a man in his late twenties that appears in excellent shape. He gives off an air of careful nonchalance and would likely prefer people believe that nothing affects or bothers him. He is reluctant to speak about his past at all, stating it is over and done with and he has no need to look back. He is devoted to his sister and Ora, his partner. When probed about his impending fatherhood, it is clear that while he is excited at the prospect of being a dad, he has significant worries tied to it as well._

"Doc thinks our powers are inheritable. The experiments changed our DNA. But there's no predicting how it will manifest." He twisted his hands a little. "Wanda and I, we were adults. We made a choice. Misguided, but a choice. The baby will not."

"Parents pass down unfortunate genes all the time," she pointed out. "Everything from colorblindness to unknown genetic abnormalities. At least you have forewarning."

"It's too vague to be useful. I really. . . run without looking, you know? Everything fast. Usually it's good. You fall for somebody, why wait?"

"It means you're quick on your feet, at least. Do not underestimate how useful that is as a parent."

"He could be faster than me."

Yes, they were discussing superpowers. But fear of not being able to handle your child, or somehow letting them down before they're even born was pretty common. "He could. Or he could be telekinetic, like your sister. Or very strong. Or any of countless other powers. There's no way to tell. You just do your best."

"He'll always be warm. And fed. And loved." He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as making a statement. "It's something."

_Wanda Maximoff is a woman in her late twenties. She is in excellent physical shape, but still gives off an air of fragility. The mental powers she acquired through unethical experiments are significant. She's still testing their limits, and as they grow the strain of them is wearing on her. I'm fairly certain Wanda's fracturing mental state is a large part of the reason I am here. She was eager and responsive in our session and has already requested weekly meetings._

"There are times, especially when I'm very tired, or have been around people for a long time, that I lose sense of myself. I don't know what thoughts are mine. Sometimes it's as if none of them are and I'm just. . . a vessel for other people."

"That sounds very similar to dissociation, which can be a symptom of PTSD, especially childhood trauma."

Wanda perked up a little, as if relieved there was a real-world analog to her problems. "Is there treatment?"

Lani waggled a hand. "Most of the time drugs are used to help decrease the frequency of episodes. We can discuss that with Amanda, if you're interested in that route. We don't know how medication will interact with your powers but since there's no one else _with_ your powers the only way to know is, unfortunately, to experiment. In the mean time talk therapy, like we're doing now has tremendous benefits. I can also teach you techniques you can use outside of therapy that will hopefully help ground you."

"There are certain people, they ground me when I touch them. Zev is probably the best at it. He quiets the world. The silence in his head drowns them out."

"That's an excellent coping method, as long as those people are okay with it. But, I think a goal would be to give you a frame work of coping methods you can do on your own."

"I would really, really like that."

_Amanda Newbury-Barnes is a woman in her early forties. She is reserved, intelligent and well spoken. It's clear that, despite her respect for psychology and the help it can give, she is hesitant to take advantage of it herself. There are clear signs of trauma in her past, but, like so many of her teammates, she seems unwilling to delve into it, preferring to focus on the positive aspects of her current life._

"I definitely need to look into an assistant, to take over the intern mentorship, if nothing else. But on the other hand, that's an aspect of my job I really enjoy. So I don't know. Part of me is waiting to see if I get pregnant. I feel like if we start having trouble with a capital T then I'll want to be busy."

There was a definite correlation between being a superhero and a workaholic. "If you're feeling overwhelmed, cutting down on stress would probably be a good idea before getting pregnant _or_ starting fertility treatments."

"I really don't do well with sitting around."

"Darcy listed your duties when I came for my interviews. I think you could lose one or two tasks and still not find a lot of sitting around time."

She chuckled and shook her head. "So this is what it feels like to be on the other side."

"Yep. And you've got to humor me or you'll lose the moral high ground when you lecture the rest of them. Catch-22. And I don't even have to try."

"You _are_ good." 

_Thor Odinsson is an ageless-looking millennia-old Asgardian. He's jovial and open and someone who makes friends easily. He's exceptionally well adjusted and happy to answer questions and discuss anything. I don't expect he'll need anything from me._

"It shouldn't bother me as much as it does. They seem happy. But I think she's actually _younger_ than me. Jane tsks me for finding that unsettling."

"It's never easy when a parent starts dating." Even, apparently, when you're two thousand. "Have you met her?"

"I have. It's been going on a while. She's very nice. Though she always looks like she knows something I don't. I won't repeat the joke Jane and Darcy made." He shuddered. 

Don't laugh, don't laugh. "I think that as long as you're polite to her and you father, you can be bothered by the situation. Just try to focus on the fact she makes him happy. It's not easy to love again after a loss."

"Jane reminds me I will face that myself one day."

"Given your situation, that does seem inevitable. Could some of your discomfort come from that?"

He tilted his head. "That is a very wise observation. I will keep that in mind."

Lani spread her hands. "It's what I'm here for."

_Pepper Potts is an adult female in her early 40's. She is 28 weeks pregnant with twins and is on modified bedrest for complications. She alternates between being cheerful and being despondent. She's trying to run a major corporation from her bedroom and is clearly under a great deal of stress. I expect she is also on the list of reasons I was called._

"Let me guess? Reduce my stress level? You're in luck, all my other doctors agree." There were tablets and papers spread in front of her, just out of reach of her 18 month old daughter, who was coloring at the foot of the bed. 

"I've always found ordering someone to be less stressed is a surefire way to stress someone out. I'm more interested in finding ways to manage your inevitable stress in a healthy way."

"I've heard they've made wonderful advances in cloning." She sighed. "I can't leave Tony in charge. I can't."

Pepper was almost a relief compared to the rest of them. This was a problem she was familiar with. "All right. Who can you give some more responsibility to?"

"I suppose I could hire my assistant an assistant so she can do other things."

"I apologize, I didn't realize Stark Industries was a mom and pop shop with three employees." Pepper's brows went up at the sarcasm. "You have people who work for you that you trust, right? A CFO, a COO, treasurer, particularly competent guy in IT, etc? You do not need to replace yourself. You need to carve your big, messy, stressful job into a bunch of smaller ones and hand them out. Set up regular check ins with them all, at whatever frequency you need to be comfortable."

"The frustrating part is I get flayed whatever I do. If I delegate, if I take maternity leave, I'm proving that women are inferior to men at doing things like running companies. If I _don't_ , then I'm setting a bad example for other women."

"The media can be fickle," Lani conceded. "And the court of public opinion is rigged, especially for women and minorities. But your health and the health of your babies has to take center stage. Do what's best for you, ignore the articles and mutters and come back stronger than before. If it really bothers you, then work with your PR team on a statement that will hit back, or talk to your HR team on how you can implement the most progressive, family friendly maternity leave in the country as a great big fuck you to everyone who thinks you should be able to run a company three days postpartum.”

That made her smile. "We actually do have excellent family leave policies. We just tend to hire type-A workaholics who don't take advantage of it." She rubbed her belly. "You meet with Sharon Rogers yet?"

"Not yet, she's on the schedule for Thursday. We've had to cancel twice."

"What we do is so unique sometimes it's not delegable. I think she's getting the brunt of that now."

Others had shared similar concerns. "I'll be honest, I don't know how much I can do for brain washed assassins and psychics. That is whole new territory, for everyone concerned. But people - especially women - in high powered jobs trying to find a work-life balance? That's been my bread and butter for a very long time."

"Good. The two of them are. . .a pair."

_Sharon Rogers is an adult woman in her early thirties. She is recovering from a recent emergency c-section and the premature birth of her first child. Medical records indicate prior to this she was in peak physical condition, a high energy individual. She serves as a government liaison for the team and has had to cut her formal maternity leave short to deal with the new Congress that has been seated. There is clear evidence of fatigue, not just, I suspect from having a newborn. She's polite and open and clearly struggling with her physical limitations as well as the emotional impact of motherhood to a premie._

"Joey's been really reluctant to use a bottle. Steve can get one in him when I'm in DC, but it's still mostly me, so my doctor was reluctant to prescribe an anti-depressant."

Lani frowned. "Do you still feel depressed?"

Sharon shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable, which was all the confirmation Lani needed, even before she said, "Sometimes. Things with Steve are better, and the girls have formed a sort of running club with me but. . . I don't know, I'm still not where I was."

"There are anti-depressants I can suggest that would only be in your milk for a short time. I would suggest you take it right after the morning feeding, then pump and dump the next one. After that you should be fine. And I think it would help you a lot, at least in the short term."

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. "It's been so much harder than I expected."

"You didn't have the easiest start," Lani said, sympathetically. "But it sounds like you have a very committed partner. That counts for a lot."

"Steve is the best at just about anything he tries to do." 

There was not even a smidgen of resentment in the words, just pride. Still, she poked a little. "Is that hard to live up to?"

Sharon shrugged and gave a rueful smile. "Sometimes. But he makes you want to be your best person. I think that's a good thing."

"There are times when you shouldn't push yourself, though. This is probably one of them."

She was quiet a moment, then in a different, much more serious tone said, "No. Right now I think I should." 

And there is was. The biggest reason Lani had been called out here, to help a group with tremendous trauma in their pasts, but nothing but good things to say about their current life. She hadn't made a formal time line yet, but by all accounts this was probably the safest and happiest most of these people had been. And yet she'd been rushed out here almost immediately after signing her paperwork. "Something's coming down the pipe from the new Congress?"

Sharon nodded slowly. "Most of them campaigned on 'doing something about this superhero problem.' People are scared and angry and waiting for the next attack to come. We did our best after Sokovia, coming out here, agreeing to oversight. But for a lot of people it only looks more suspicious, like we're out here plotting in secrecy. Someone with a human face needs to be standing there advocating for us or I don't know what will happen."

Lani made a mental note to keep all her notes on her laptop and not the network. "All right then. We'll do what we can to manage your stress levels and improve your quality of life as much as possible."

_Steve Rogers is an adult man in his mid-thirties (or his early 100's, depending on how you count). He is in perfect physical condition. He's guarded, but genial about it, and answers questions without dodges. It's clear he carries a lot, from the responsibility of his team to a deep sense of guilt and worry over his wife and son. Peeling the man apart from the legend is going to be a significant task._

"Call it a job almost feels disingenuous at this point. These people. . . they're my family."

That was a theme that had been rather prevalent in many of her conversations, either implicit or implied. "You've all certainly formed a remarkably healthy social network up here. From a purely clinical point of view several team members should be far worse off than they are. Including you, if I'm being frank."

"You don't think it's dangerous for a man like me to have so much he'd put before duty?"

"It depends on the man, to some extent. But I think most people find having something to fight for is better than plowing forward on duty alone." She wove her fingers together loosely, elbows braced on her chair's arms. "Humans need connections. You deserve friends and family. A life beyond what you consider duty."

He shook his head. "No, I mean. . ." He leaned back in his chair. "During the war I did something very crazy and dangerous to rescue Bucky, who is the closest thing I have to brother. And then when he was the Winter Soldier I almost let him kill me rather than fight him. I broke all kinds of laws finding him and getting him back to the states. The only thing really keeping me in line is my own moral compass, and it's fine with me breaking every law in the book for a good cause."

"In all the events you listed you were, essentially, alone. Bucky was the only thing you had left from your old life, both in the war and after waking up from the ice. You were the only one who could make those decisions. Now, you're surrounded by people. You're no longer alone, and any decision you make can be run past multiple people, all with different points of view that will either help you or offer their own solutions. Can you conceive of a situation in which you'd literally lost everyone that you care about? It would have to be some sort of cataclysmic event. In which case your own moral compass would be all you would need."

He moved his eyebrows up and down. "I'm not worried about losing them as much as I am about what I know I'd do to protect them."

Lani was quiet a moment. "I don't want to diminish what you're saying, because I understand that you saying that is far more serious than, say, Violet Marsh saying it. But that feeling is a side effect of having connections. Of being a parent. It's not a bad thing."

"Tony has the same urge and it almost destroyed the planet." He sighed. "I like to think mine is more measured. It will be real danger and not just theoretical paranoia. Doesn't make it any less dangerous."

"Do you think you would take time to talk to anyone about it? Even just Bucky or Sam, trying to get back up?"

"Not if I thought they'd stop me." The answer was immediate, and he made a face like he hadn't meant to say it. Which meant it was an honest instinct that he didn't like.

"This isn't something with an easy answer. Since it does seem to concern you, I'd be happy to work with you on it."

He nodded, then added. "I'll tell you, though. I don't think either of them would stop me."

_Tony Stark is an adult man in his forties. He is in good physical condition, though his medical records indicate a history of high blood pressure and heart problems, as well as injuries sustained from a kidnapping ten years ago. He is abrasive and cocky, immediately attempting to put others on the defensive so he is in control of the conversation. Once you dig under that outer layer, it becomes clear this is a defense mechanism. The real Tony is deeply emotional and sensitive, devoted to his friends and family, and weighed down by what he views as serious mistakes in his past. There are clear issues rooted in his upbringing and distant father. He also appears to show respect or affection through material gifts._

"It doesn't have any guns yet. I didn't know if you could handle that kind of responsibility."

Lani eyed him, then the chair parked in front of her. "You made me a hover chair."

He gestured vaguely. "I had all the pieces. It was just a matter of putting them together."

"You know I don't report my notes to anyone. You don't have to suck up for a good review."

"You're on my team now. My team gets good toys." 

It was actually rather remarkable. Barely wider than her body, it looked like a fancy ergonomic chair sitting on a box full of repulsers, like those on his suit. "It moves in any direction," he was saying, "And turns 360 degrees in one spot. It also goes up, so you can reach things and get eye level with people. Should fit through any normal doorway, I can't help you if you go to Sam's house."

She bit down on her initial, defensive response of "Why would I be at Sam's house?" and instead asked, "Does he not have normal doorways?"

"His house is really old and was apparently build by hobbits. The staircase is a deathtrap and Thor hits his head on the door frames."

"I will keep that in mind," she murmured. "How do I control it?"

"You can do it by pointing, or by touch panels in the arms. Something I'm working on but didn't make it into the prototype is muscle control—sensors built into the seat. Bennett helped me with this thing, he said you could move some muscles in that vicinity. End game is nerve impulse sensors like the ones controlling Barnes's arm."

All of which put to lie his "just slapped it together" excuse. "When you're ready, I'm already getting in touch with local wheelchair groups. I'm sure I could find you some QA testers."

"Good," he said. He leaned forward in his chair. "I want to make things that help people. I've made enough things that hurt people for ten lifetimes."

"You see your forays into medical tech as a way to balance the scales?"

"I don't do Romanov's ledger thing. There is no penance and no absolution. But I'm one of the smartest people in the world. Might as well put it to good."

That was a far healthier outlook on it than she would have expected him to have. "Does it bring you comfort? Knowing you're helping people now?"

"Sometimes. Are we going to do the ink blots? I really want to do the ink blots. I swear I see some strange things in Ruby's drawings."

_Zev Taschegregger is congenitally deaf, otherwise healthy male. Our session was conducted through his interpreter, Chuck, which was a first for me. Zev seems to come from a healthy, happy childhood and is close to his parents and siblings, making him a bit of a unicorn on this team. He is currently in the process of becoming a doctor, with all the stress that entails. But most of his concerns are related to his partner, Wanda._

"It seemed like a good idea at the time, facilitating communications. But now she's somehow linked to them. If I'm sleeping next to her I buffer it, but if I've got an overnight shift in my hospital rotations she sees people's dreams. Sometimes they're bad dreams."

Well, she'd taken this job because she wanted a challenge. "I've been looking into some techniques for her to use when awake, but they wouldn't apply to sleeping hours." She twirled her pen through her fingers. "I could do some research into lucid dreaming."

"I thought that was one of those Woo myths." The hand sign that was clearly for "woo" made her laugh.

"Well a lot of things that are woo can have benefits, though almost never as much as their proponents would like you to believe. There have been studies on people who claim to do lucid dreaming that indicate their brains are active in ways that other sleepers aren't. There was a peer reviewed study at Stanford a few decades ago I can send you that goes into more depth. And it has successfully been used in the treatment of nightmares. I don't see why it wouldn't also work for someone experience other people's." She paused while Chuck caught up. "The other immediate option would be sedatives for nights you aren't there. I'm a huge proponent of using medication in addition to therapy, but I feel it might be a slippery slope where Wanda is concerned."

"Her brain seems to work differently than ours. She's actually doing a brain study with my father—he's a neurosurgeon. I should put you in touch with him." His hands stilled and he blinked like he was remembering something. "Actually, you must know my mother, she sent us your name. Rachel Cohen at New York Pres."

Lani grinned. "Rachel! Yes, we've attended several conferences together. I didn't know she was one of my references here."

"Apparently it's a small world. Anyway, I don't know how she'd react to meds. She took Benadryl once and made the house vibrate."

"We're going to start with therapy techniques, but she seemed open to trying if it came to that. Dr. Newbury-Barnes and I would need to do some serious research before opening that Pandora's box, though."

He smiled fondly. "Many things about Wanda come in Pandora's Box format."

_Vision is an android made of vibranium fused with simulated human tissue. He is 18 months old. He does feel complex emotions, and wanted to see me. He is remarkably humble for someone who may be omnipotent, and possibly omniscient. He struggles with the fine details of interpersonal relationships, and gender identity. He is the most unusual patient I've ever had._

"Ultron built a male-resembling body for socio-cultural reasons. Intimidation and power were his goals and I can't fault the logic. But it is strange to be trapped in this construct. My appearance otherwise is very non-standard. The stone, the purple skin. Yet it's somehow still remarkable when I wear a dress."

It helped, in the existential, cosmic sense, that the android had such human problems. "Gender constructs are taught, directly and implicitly, from a very early age in humans. Girls are given dolls and toy kitchens, boys are given cars and trains and toy guns. It's difficult to question those assumptions. I think it's healthy and necessary for you to explore the things that you like and feel comfortable with. I wish everyone had that opportunity."

"Ada worries about that. Among Jane and Amanda and Natasha and Pepper, she still asks me 'Can I be what I want to even if I'm a girl?'. It's so pervasive I don't even know where it's coming from."

"Off the top of my head I'd guess the media or kids at school. It could also just be her way of phrasing a general sense of uncertainty or self esteem. Ada seems to put a great deal of pressure on herself. Being surrounded by very successful women is a positive, but can also cause her to have extremely high goals for herself."

"They all expect too much of themselves," he said. "Every last one. I suppose it's what makes them great."


	5. Chapter 5

They'd given Lani a very nice office down the hall from Amanda's. The digital sign on the door displayed her name, and that she was available. Below it was taped a carefully drawn and colored plumeria flower that Sam expected was from Ada Marsh. Before he could knock, the door slid open. He stepped into the office and didn't see her.

"Hi, sorry," came a voice from above him, and he looked up to see her floating up near the ceiling in the hoverchair.

"Did he put a seatbelt on that thing? I told him he should." 

"Not that I've found." She tapped something on the arm of the chair and it floated down, landing her a little higher than she'd been in her old one. "It's a pretty snug fit though. And it must have some sort of gyros to keep it even, it didn't wobble at all."

"Apparently he flew into the walls a lot while figuring out the suit."

"I am happy to skip that part of testing." She cruised over to her desk. "Are you here for you introductory session?"

He'd heard about the chair but hadn't seen it, and it really was cool looking. "That is what is on my calendar."

"If I can whine for just a second beforehand, this has been an exhausting week." She gathered up a notepad and pen and gestured for him to have a seat. "I've never had this many first appointments back-to-back before."

He looked at her a moment, considering. "You want to reschedule the formal bit and go get a beer?" He looked at his watch, even though he knew it was 3:02 or so. "It's five o'clock somewhere."

She hesitated, clearly warring with what she wanted to do and what she felt she should do. Then she tossed her notepad back on her desk and nodded. "Lets go."

"I have the urge to ask you questions," he said in the hallway. "But it's probably unprofessional."

"Also illegal," she said brightly. "But it's going well. I didn't get nearly the pushback I was expecting."

"Yeah, you can thank me for that. And Doc. Probably mostly Doc. She intimidates most of 'em."

"I was getting that vibe, yeah."

"The dynamic here is fascinating, but highly functional. All of the personalities and roles puzzle together really well."

She nodded, looking thoughtful. "Team cohesion is solid. Those bonds are clearly the reason everyone's issues haven't imploded already." She paused while he held the door open for her. "Can I tell you how much I enjoy not having to deal with wet, muddy wheels in this slush."

A blast of cold air hit him and he tugged his collar a little higher. "I can see how that would be gross, yeah. You always live in California?"

"Since I was four, I was born in Hawaii."

"Hawaii. Man, if I'd know that, I don't think I'd have even tried to get you to come here." The shortest route to his car was over a mostly-snow covered path, one that would have been impossible in a standard chair.

He swore he heard her giggle a little as she lifted over a small drift. "We went back to see relatives a few times, but I haven't been in years. Preferred to take my vacations closer to home."

"I'm from Detroit. I vacationed elsewhere."

"Weather's a bit of a lateral move, too, I should think."

"Had a detour through the middle east. DC for a while, too. Plus the Air Force bouncing me around. So it's more like an awkwardly shaped circle." He unlocked the jeep—this was 4-wheel drive country—and opened the passenger door. "Hop in and I'll wrestle Hoverbot into the back."

She grinned. "Oh, good, I've been trying to think of a name for it." He watched her maneuver herself into the car, thinking it looked a bit easier with the new chair than it had before. When she was safely tucked in, he pulled the hover chair away and managed to collapse it enough to get in the back.

He got in the driver's seat and started the car. "He labeled it Mark 1. That means he's planning on making more."

"Oh, I know. He's already emailing me odd questions at all hours of the night. Clearly it's his new thing."

"If it gets too much, let me know and I'll tell him to back off."

"It's all right," she said with a little hand wave. "It's actually been a good foot in the door to get him to talk about other things."

"How many of them do you think you'll see back?"

"A few have already scheduled their next appointments - most you could probably guess, but a couple would surprise you. As for the rest-" She shrugged. "A couple will probably be back once they've had time to process and I suspect the others won't unless something major comes up or Amanda makes them. Fortunately, everyone I would have categorized as at crisis level has agreed to come back, so I don't need to start knocking heads just yet."

He laughed. "Too bad, I was looking forward to seeing that."

"Well give me time, it's only my first week."

There was a place not far from his house that was kind of a run down dive bar. It was full of flannel-wearing redneck types, which was not usually even remotely his crowd—non-regulars who didn't know who he was still looked at him like they expected him to steal something. Though what was worth stealing in that bar, he had no idea. However, due to an owner who'd decided to get around dealing with fake IDs by just not letting in anyone who looked under 30, it was the only bar in Ithaca completely devoid of college students.

They had good hot wings and quiet tables in the back, and he'd gotten to be friends with Vietnam-vet bartender, Gary. Gary leaned over the bar to look at Lani's chair and ask, "What in hell is that?"

"Tony Stark's science project," Sam replied. "This is Lani. Lani, this is Gary. He's an asshole."

"Only on good days," he said cheerfully.

She held a hand up for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, Gary. I, on occasion, am a bitch."

Gary grinned. "Grub?" he asked.

"And a Fat Tire. And whatever she drinks."

"Don't suppose you have a lager on tap?"

He pressed a hand to his chest. "We're not monsters, lady."

"I'll take a pint then."

Sam laughed, and found them a table in the back. "You commented on the dynamic holding everyone together. You think it would survive with a part missing?"

Lani tilted her head, clearly turning the question over in her mind. "Depends on the person and why they're gone. I think the death of any of the team members would cause irreparable fractures. Alternately, I don't know that anyone would begrudge, say, Bruce and Violet deciding to retire somewhere safe."

"Somebody's going to get killed eventually. It's war, somebody always dies. That's just math."

"You've have several near misses as a team, so far. For some that puts mortality into perspective, for others it can make them feel invincible."

"Some of them are more genuinely invincible than others."

"That's true. And some only think they are."

He laughed. "Yeah, also true." He got up to get their drinks from where Gary put them at the end of the bar.

On his way back he noticed several nearby tables casting looks in her direction, that she was very pointedly ignoring. She smiled when he reached her and put the pint glass down. "How did you find this place?"

"Over the summer a couple of the guys were helping me restore the windows on my house. Barton declared he wanted to go have a drink somewhere there was no one young enough to be his kid. Tall order in a college town, but he called Darcy and she found this place." He took a swig of his beer. "Would I have ever walked in the door without being dragged by a group of white people? Unlikely. But Gary's a good guy, the music is surprisingly varied, and it's nice to have a beer and conversation without getting hit on."

She braced her chin on her fist. "Is that a common problem for you?"

"I know that sounds egotistical, but I don't even think it's personal. Women of a certain type collect around everything from Navy Seals to Rock stars—or superheroes. Nearly all of the rest of them are married. Pietro Maximoff used to take great advantage of the phenomenon, but it's not my scene."

"I'm impressed. Most men in your situation would at least dabble with groupies." She sipped her beer. "You actually get similar attention as a woman in a chair."

He raised his eyebrows. "You get groupies?"

"The vernacular I've heard is actual devotee. Men or women who fetishize being disabled or dating and caring from someone who is." She shrugged. "Then there's the men who see a woman in chair and assume she'll be an easy score because she must be desperate. As a bonus, they'll now have a story that begins 'So one time, I banged a crippled chick.'"

"You know, I know enough about the human psyche that I'm not surprised, and yet. . ." He shook his head. "Everybody I know with a chair is a dude. And most dudes don't mind free sex. I imagine it must be much worse for women."

"It's a bit discouraging. For some reason, people think the chair gives them a free pass to ask insensitive questions and get in your personal space. Some of it is well meaning and occasionally you get someone who's just curious and wants to be more informed. Those people I'll talk to all day, because they at least attempt politeness." She inclined her head towards the men a few tables over who were looking over at them ever few moments. "Everyone stares. Everyone. Always. And there was a joke in my basketball team that we should charge a fee to ask 'What's wrong with you?' to help offset medical costs."

"I'd like to tell you Ithaca is a bastion of tolerance and and understanding, but it's still a rural-ish area. College town or not, it's certainly not going to be an improvement over San Francisco." He glanced at her chair. "That thing is super conspicuous. Though much cooler."

"To be honest, that was part of my pros and cons list about taking the job. I've generally made a point of staying in major metropolitan areas. For a variety of reasons." She traced lines in the condensation coating her pint glass. "But, once in a lifetime opportunities outweigh a lot of inconvenience."

"I know how that feels. Captain America showed up on my doorstep, and suddenly I'm up in the air dodging bullets and RPGs again."

"Why did you stay?" she asked, and he liked that it was in a tone of honest curiosity and not clinical probing. He also kind of liked that he could tell the difference between her tones.

He'd pondered that a lot, in the last couple of years. "Steve is one of those people that is just fundamentally good. He's the guy that will do the right thing, no matter how hard or ugly or difficult. It's seductive, being a part of that, and made me feel like I was doing something special. After we found Barnes I went back home to DC and just felt dissatisfied and at loose ends." He paused because Gary dropped off their hot wings. "Pararescue training is the longest and possibly hardest special forces training in the world--and then I tossed the Falcon program on top of that. I'm not a guy who longs for an ordinary life. I let grief talk me into walking away from all it the first time. When they called me during the Ultron debacle, I said yes and never looked back."

Lani nodded in understanding and they paused a moment to sample the wings. Sam tried not to think how much he enjoyed watching her face as the spice got to her and the way she managed to make licking sauce off her fingers both dainty and sexy.

When they'd gotten their first few bites in she swigged some beer and asked, "If you could do anything in the world, training or education not a factor, what would it be?"

"Will I disappoint you if I say this?"

"Not at all." She snagged another wing. "Maya Angelou said success is liking yourself, liking what you do and liking how you do it. I think it's something to admire."

"I will admit I wish Headquarters had been set up somewhere with less sleet and more beaches, but I wouldn't want to live a lazy life and do nothing."

"Superheroing would be more appealing if it was based on a tropical island."

"You know how many people died in Sokovia?"

"Of the top of my head? A few hundred?"

"A hundred and seventy-seven. And a city was destroyed. Plane crashes kill more people."

The wing she'd been about to bite stopped halfway to her mouth. "Seriously? That's staggeringly small."

"Of course, it's something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. But we save lives in disasters all the time now. So I'd probably do it even if it was on the north pole."

She inclined her head. "Hey I wouldn't have come out here if I didn't think you guys were on the side of angels."

"What really made you say yes?"

"The challenge," she said, taking another swig of beer and wiping her hands off. "That probably sounds cold. Maybe it is. I do love my job. I love that I help people and I like the challenge of seeing problems from different view points to help others figure them out. But most people's problems are the same. I could feel myself starting to get . . . burnt out. A bored psychologist doesn't help anyone."

"Yeah, we're nothing if not interesting."

"You said when you came to recruit me that the Avengers require a support staff. I've been trying to save the world one person at a time for a long time. This is just a little more direct."

She had sauce on her chin, and he had to fight the surprisingly strong urge to wipe it off with his thumb, even though he really didn't know her well enough to do that sort of thing. "I'm glad you took the job."

Her expression softened and she wiped off the sauce, solving his problem. "Thank you for finding me."

"It was well worth the trip."

"And you got to see a haunted house."

"Particularly interesting as we may be working in its modern-day version."

She inclined her head. "There are certain parallels."

He drained the last of his beer and watched the bar a moment. "I suppose everyone wants to be free of their ghosts, don't they?"

They sat in silence a moment. "I think ghosts are the price we pay for interesting lives."

"That like 'Interesting Times'?" he asked.

"One of my grandmother's favorite curses."

He looked over at her a moment. "If you could do anything, would you still do this?"

Her mouth quirked a little. "Will you think less of me if I say no?"

"Depends on how good the other thing is."

"I wanted to be a chef," she told him. "I had been accepted to the Culinary Institute in New York before the accident."

His first thought was a stupid question—why couldn't she be a chef? Because commercial kitchens weren't exactly accessible to the chair. Sympathy was probably something she'd had enough for ten lifetimes and didn't need more. So his third thought is what came out of his mouth. "God, that shitty kitchenette in the temp housing must be driving you bonkers."

"A little bit," she admitted with a smile. "And my quest for a good, large kitchen that requires minimal updating is driving my real estate agent a little nuts."

"Nah, buy the house you want and gut the kitchen. Only way to do it." 

"That's what they tell me, but that just means more time in the temp housing."

"I'll give you that. But then it would be perfect." He shook his head. "Though I live in a construction zone voluntarily, so maybe you shouldn't be talking to me."

"Tony mentioned your stairs were a death trap."

"Only if you don't look where you're walking." His stairs had been build in 1863, well before building codes of any sort.

She moved her chair a little closer to the table so she could lean on it. "Why an old house?"

"The challenge? I bought it mostly for the land—17 acres. More space than I'll ever use, but I like the privacy. New houses are also enormous. Nobody builds small houses anymore, and I'm just me. This one I can fix up as I like, and it's go character."

"Character is important. I used to love the old painted ladies back home, impractical as they were."

"It's a hobby. An expensive, maddening hobby, but I love doing it." He shrugged. "The more I work on it, the more it's mine."

"That's how I feel when I cook," she said fondly. "Making something that's entirely mine."

He gestured at her. "There we go. You cook me dinner, I'll help you fix up your Money Pit."

"That sounds like an excellent trade."

"I'm going to go get us something stronger than beer to seal this bargain. What do you drink?"

"I'm a rum girl, personally. But tequila or scotch will do in a pinch."

He got drinks and a bowl of pretzels from Gary. He slid the glass of rum over to her and sunk back into his chair. He lifted his glass, then asked, "Anything you don't eat?"

"I hate mushrooms," she said after a moment's thought.

"That's heresy, but I can work with it."

Shaking her head, she leaned over and clinked her glass with his.

*

Her deal with Sam simplified Lani's house hunting considerably. As did the realization that she no longer had to have a one story house, now that she had the Stark hover chair to take her up and down stairs. Of course, being open to renovation meant seeing a lot of questionable properties.

The next weekend, in the interest of not making her realtor pull her hair out, she brought Sam along. She had no idea what kind of renovation was possible on her budget and schedule. So she figured the second opinion would be useful.

He was very thorough and specific—knocking on walls, inspecting electrical panels and foundation lines. "You mind if I go look at the roof?" he asked the agent as they stood on the porch of a garishly painted craftsman.

"Uh. . . I don't have a ladder."

He shrugged, apparently taking that as ascent. The he leaned back, jumped and grabbed the eave, pulling himself up as easily as most people pushed up from the couch. The agent looked at Lani in shock and she shrugged at well. "He works out."

After a moment, he called, "Hey, come up here?"

The shock turned to incredulity as Lani tapped on her control pad and the chair lifted up. "If you're about to introduce me to a family of raccoons or the largest wasp's nest ever recorded then we are no longer friends."

"This house is pretty solid," he told her.

"I had to come up to the roof for that?"

He grinned. "Mostly I wanted to see if you'd do it."

She shook her head. "I'm glad I didn't know you before the accident, you'd have dared me to do so much shit."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You have the propulsion array that powers Iron Man sitting under your ass. I can dare you to do more things than I can Steve."

"But no seat belt," she pointed out. "So this house is a definite maybe?"

"Yes. And I will call him about the seatbelt."

They saw a couple more places, including a Dutch Colonial that she loved but Sam insisted had dry rot and foundation issues. After parting ways with the agent they drove past the craftsman on the way back to campus. "You don't think it's too much house for me?"

"It's still half the size of the giant thing they were trying to build me in Avengerville."

"Which is why I'm asking you and not Tony Stark."

"It's a little big, but it will be less work, in the shape it's in, than some of the small but older houses."

"i suppose I will have guests." She looked over at him. "Visit lovely Ithaca."

"It's really nice in the fall," he offered. "Seriously, October in upstate New York is gorgeous. The organize tours of people who drive around just to look at the foliage. They call it Leaf Peeping."

"That is a thing I can totally sell my mother on."

"I think I'm going to have to break down and ask you what the hell ethnicity _are_ you so I can properly form the stereotype in my head."

She grinned. "That might be a new record for someone asking. My mother is Korean. My father is from Hawaii and being Asian in Hawaii is like being white on the mainland. A chaotic jumble of a bunch of different nationalities, many of which were at war with each other at one point or another, that a pretty impossible to quantify."

"Yeah, I definitely have Korean Mother in my stereotype database."

"They're all true," she told him in a conspiratorial whisper.

He laughed. "That's okay. My mother thinks everything is an occasion to make fried chicken and collard greens, and wears a giant hat to church, where she sings in the choir. Loudly."

That got her giggling. "You have to be joking."

"I'm not. The hats are atrocious. Like, British People atrocious."

"That's awesome." She shook her head and fanned herself as she calmed. "Do you buy her hats?"

"Of course. I've even brought them back from Paris. I took Thor shopping with me, Asgardians are big on crazy headgear."

"And I'm sure you were her favorite son for a good long time."

"I have _always_ been her favorite son."

Lani gave him a canny look. "Are you her _only_ son?"

His grin widened. "Yeah. My sisters—there are two of them—swear I'm her favorite in general."

"That's pretty common with only boys. I have two sisters and a brother and I think we'd all tell you Kai is the favorite."

"I personally think my older sister has now pulled herself ahead of the pack by producing grandbabies."

"Grandbabies do tilt the odds," she conceded. "I moved across the country so I'm totally at the bottom of the list now." 

"You miss them? Your family."

She didn't answer right away, ponder how best to phrase it. "I liked having them close. It's nice to have a ready support network. But they can be overwhelming bordering on smothering at times. Spreading my wings feels good."

"Mine can be intense, too. And loud. My parents like to argue recreationally, and it can be exhausting."

Her brows went up. "It sounds exhausting."

"It seems to work for them. They're just passionate people. It's more. . . Tony and Pepper than actual dysfunction. But I still have a really limited tolerance for it."

"Listening to people argue causes the production of stress hormones. I don't know that knowing they aren't serious changes that."

"That why I decided to do something super dangerous with my life? Acclimation to stress hormones?"

She chuckled. "It could be. We should explore this theory."

"We should also probably stop sitting parked out side of this house before it gets creepy."

"Yeah, that would be awkward to explain." She looked back at it while he started up the car. "I'll call tomorrow and make an offer on it."

He grinned. "Good."

"And we should discuss what you'd like for your first meal."

He pulled out onto the street. "No fun if I tell you what to make."

"Oh, it has to be a surprise." She tilted her head. "I take it you'll eat anything?"

He winked at her. "All food is good food."

"I'll call you when I have something planned."


	6. Chapter 6

The owners of Lani's new house were a couple of out-of-state children of its deceased owner, and they were very happy with a fast closing. The day she got her keys, Sam recruited Clint and Bucky to come over and help him assess it in detail. They brought Cal with them, because he had a fleet of little camera robots that could go behind the walls and look at the plumbing and electrical without damaging the plaster, which was in amazing shape and he didn't want to touch.

"This might be the best blend of tech and tank we've ever done," Bucky commented, watching the various screens Cal had set up to show the robot's video feeds. Cal swiveled to look at him in surprise and Bucky shrugged. "Amanda likes DnD."

"Some of the Avengers are Super Nerds," Sam said to Lani.

"I see that."

He leaned over to look at the video feeds. "How's it looking?"

"Pretty good," Clint said. "No leaks."

"Knob and Tube, but no insulation," Cal said. "So it's not a fire hazard. Heating bills must be nuts."

"It's March. The ground is thawing, it'll be fine," Sam told him.

"Yeah," Bucky said. "Siding has to go anyway, pull it off and do everything from the outside."

"Or we could do it now while you're doing the kitchen," Clint said. "Drywall is not the devil."

"Yes, it is," Sam and Bucky said in virtual unison.

"Steve Rogers sure does have a type," Cal muttered.

"Quick" Lani said. "Someone call Sharon and find out her opinion on drywall."

Sam pointed at her. "You will appreciate plaster walls in the summer."

"I'm sure I will," she said solemnly.

They watched the video screens as the bots worked their way through the walls. The house was remarkably untouched. Which, on the one hand, made for a lot of upgrades—the house still had a fuse box, for God's sake. But it also meant things had not been messed with during the ugly years. The woodwork had never been painted, the plaster never pulled down, the light fixtures never replaced. The carpet was avocado shag, though. The same kind that had been in his house. "Did they give a discount on this carpet back then?" 

"Maybe it was the cheapest," Bucky suggested. "Usually when things are ubiquitous it's 'cause they were the cheapest. It's why barns are red."

He was always an entertaining source trivia. "Wanna go see what's under it?"

He rubbed his hands together. "Hell yes."

The carpet revealed gorgeous hardwood, hidden under there for 40 or 50 years. "Now we're in business."

"You are way more excited about this than I am," Lani said when he brought her in to show her. "Though I am glad I won't scratch it up with my wheels."

"You'll save a fortune on flooring if the whole house is like this."

"Now that I can get excited about."

He folded his arms over his chest. "And you should be able to move in sometime next month."

She gave him a very cute grin. "Even better."

"Assuming you can be decisive. If you're one of those people who hems and haws over every detail, it might take longer."

"I suppose we're all fortunate I'm am not that type of person."

"Come on then, we have shit to pick out."

They spent the rest of the day at various stores, picking counters, cabinets and finishes for her house. Sam discovered that while she was decisive, she was _picky_ , especially about her kitchen stuff. They must have looked at every counter top and appliance in the store while she hunted down things she few could handle the abuse she planned to put them through.

It was easier since she could order things at a standard height, because the hoverchair rose up to standing height if she needed it. She did need a number of places to be recessed under the surface so she could get up close, but she had easy use of the upper cabinets for the first time in her adult life.

"Zev always says having to constantly request special exceptions and special orders is exhausting," Sam commented while they were waiting for the salesperson to see if the sink she wanted came in extra-shallow. "I don't think I fully appreciated that until I started hanging out with you."

"It effects every part of life," she confirmed. "This chair helps with a lot of things - mainly height related - but there's still a lot to think about."

"I hear Stark put his R&D people on figuring out how to make a mass market one." 

That made her smiled fondly. "That will make a lot of people's lives easier."

"The FDA is going to require it to have not just seat belts, but harnesses."

"No everyone is as responsible as me."

"Maybe you should get some. You could do barrel rolls."

She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "There's a thought."

The sales clerk came back then and informed them she could order the sink she wanted. It was the last stop of the day, and when they got back to the car, he said, "Yeah, you definitely owe me dinner."

"I most certainly do. What does your kitchen look like? 'Cause there's nothing reward worthy coming out of the kitchenette."

"Vintage '70's. I'm not much of a cook so it's last on my renovation list. But everything works."

She pulled out her phone and scrolled a moment. "I actually have a pretty busy week. But I could come by Friday or Saturday night and make you something."

"Saturday. We'll be working on the house, I'll be hungry." He didn't know if dinner-on-Saturday had some sort of _connotation_ to it, but he wasn't going to mention that if she wasn't.

"Sounds good. It'll give me the day to shop and prep." She gave him a sidelong glance. "Do I have to feed Clint and Bucky too?"

"They have families to eat with."

That gave her pause, but then she nodded. "Well good. I think I'd need a commercial kitchen to make enough food for all three of you."

"You'd manage." The two of them probably would say yes if asked. He didn't want to ask. That was a line of thinking that deserved inspection, but wasn't going to get it.

"Like Jesus with the fishes," she agreed with a grin.

He really did like this girl.

*

"Normally the first step to dealing with anxiety or negative thoughts is to think of the absolute worst case scenario. But, given the unique circumstances you deal with, I would suggest starting with identifying how this situation actually affects you."

Most of the team that had scheduled follow up appointments had scheduled only one. A few - Sharon, Pepper, and, surprisingly, Barnes - had laid claim to weekly slots. Wanda, on the other hand, had laid claim to three weekly appointments, two private and one with Zev. The couples slot had less to do with any relationship issues and more with keeping him up to speed on what they were doing to help her and how he could guide her through her calming techniques between sessions. It was, by far, the most intense session schedule Lani had ever had with a new client, but given the enormous stresses Wanda dealt with, it seemed important to get a good framework in place immediately.

"Ideally, thinking through the personal implications will help you separate thoughts that are coming from others versus ones that originate with you. Most you should be able to then let go of. If it's not your concern then it doesn't need to take up space in your head."

Wanda nodded thoughtfully. "And if I can't separate from it that way?"

"Well, then we get into your standard cognitive behavior work. What's the worst case scenario and how would you deal with it? What's the best case scenario and how would you deal with it? And what is most likely to happen and how will you deal with it? Once you've put it through those three exercises you can look at the fear more objectively and either reject it, or put a feasible plan in place."

"They're making a plan," she said. "For the worst case scenario. I only see bits, but the fact that it exists makes me anxious. How do you plan when the plan itself is scary? Isn't that like going in circles?"

"Is it the plan that makes you nervous or the parts of it that are still in the dark? Would knowing details help?"

She could see Wanda thinking about it. "I think it's the gaps. Because I imagine things to fill them."

"Then perhaps it's time to talk with someone on that team about bringing you into the fold. You have not choice in hearing what you hear, so secrecy is out the window. But it doesn't have to cause you anxiety." Lani shrugged. "And maybe you'll be an asset. You do have unique insight into human behavior."

"I hesitate to ask. No one else knows. I mean, everyone has sort of what-ifs. Clint has backup plans for every possible emergency scenario. Mostly involving packing up Nat and hiding in South America. But this, particularly, is just between Tony and Steve. Like the tribe chiefs discussing what to do when the volcano explodes."

"I would start with Steve," she advised. "He would be more concerned that it was causing you distress. Tony would reassure, Steve will be honest."

"I'm impressed with how well you've figured us out."

Admitting that her chats with Sam had probably helped would cause her to lose her air of mystery. And admit how much time she spent talking to Sam. "I'm a pretty good judge of human character myself."

She smiled and stood, because Wanda always knew when time was winding down without Lani having to comment. "I'll talk to Steve," she said.

Lani nodded and moved to accompany her to the door. "I think it will help. And start trying the cognitive behavior questions on any other problems that pop up."

"I will. Thank you, I'll see you Monday." She stopped. "Oh. There was one thing. You'll probably think this is weird, and it is absolutely okay to say no. But Zev asked me to ask you. He thinks if we are going to discuss relationship issues with you it's problematic if the conversation has to be relayed through me, FRIDAY sucks at conveying nuance or emotion, the tablet is slow, and there are things I, personally, do not want to discuss in front of Chuck."

She smiled. "Understandable. Did you have a solution?"

"I could. . . put ASL in your head."

Her brows went up. "I didn't know that was in your repertoire."

"Believe it or not, it's easier than digging up memories or altering thoughts. It's an isolated area of the brain, I don't get near anything else."

Lani nodded, pondering it. "Let me think about it and we'll revisit it on Monday, all right?"

"Okay." Then she added, "Sam did it so he could talk to Zev."

How convenient. "I'm making him dinner this weekend, so I'll pick his brain."

Wanda's grin was very wide. "Have fun," she sing-songed, and then she headed down the hallway.

Oh, dear. That was going to make its way around the team by the end of the day. Well, nothing to be done about it now. She left the door open a crack and went to her desk to type up her notes. Wanda had been her last scheduled appointment and it was Friday afternoon, so she wasn't expecting anyone. Still, it seemed polite to hang out for a while, just in case.

"Yee. I was looking for you." Tony Stark never, ever made appointments. Because there was nothing that he needed to talk about. Instead he'd just show up and tell her he had to update the firmware on her chair, or fix a part, or clean the arc reactor (that had been her favorite). And while he worked, he talked.

"Hello Tony. What can I do for you?"

"I had a crazy idea."

"How is that different from most of your ideas?"

He ignored the jab. "You know the suit can stand up on its own? And mostly walks under its own hydraulics, my legs could never move all that."

She had a pretty good idea where this was going, but it seemed important to let him do the big idea reveal. "I did not know that."

"So it got me wondering. Is it necessary this form factor be a chair?"

"You're suggesting making some sort of standing chair? Or partial suit?"

"Pretty much. What do you think?"

After a moment's pause to gather her thoughts, she said gently, "I think it's an interesting idea and I'd be happy to help you with it. But I don't think I'd want one."

He tilted his head, not looking upset, just confused. "Why not?"

"Because it means my legs would just sort of be dangling there, which for me would be more conspicuous than the chair. It wouldn't actually mean I could walk again, just be a weird, taunting facsimile of it. And it really wouldn't solve any problem I have that the hover chair doesn't." She paused. "Also, a robotic metal suit wrapped around essentially dead limbs is a Doctor Who villain just waiting to happen."

"You make a compelling case."

"But that's my opinion. I do not speak for the disabled people gestalt and am sure there would be a lot of interested parties if you could make it viable for the consumer market. So it you want to pursue it, I'd be happy to offer input."

He stared at her a moment, then nodded decisively. "Cool. Come by Monday."

Monday was shaping up to be a very interesting day. "I'll be there." He swung around on his heel and strolled out, calling, "It's Friday, go home," over his shoulder.

She shook her head, but decided it was pretty good advice. So she gathered up her things and headed out for the weekend.

As it turned out, Tony hadn't been entirely wrong about Sam's house being the opposite of accessible. Starting with half a story of wooden front steps that were way too steep to ramp even if she had one that big. He'd have had to carry her up. 

If she was very honest, that actually did not sound bad.

The front half of the house looked very nice, stained glass and polished wood. It got less done the further back he took her. The kitchen, at the rear of the house was. . .hilarious. While its most recent components were visibly 1970's—the fridge was harvest gold—it was quite the historical mishmash. The large gas stove looked to be from the 50's, and was situated in front of a fireplace, which it's vent ducting ran up. The sink was much older, wide enameled cast iron with legs, two drainboards, and separate hot and cold taps. The cabinets were an atrocious green and matched the flocked wallpaper, but not the counters, which were half blue formica and half yellow ceramic tile she imagined was the same vintage as the stove. The floor was fake brick, and the ceiling lamps looked old enough to have once been gaslights. To the left of the sink, there was a brand new stainless steel dishwasher.

"I swear, everything works," he said from behind her.

"I like that the dishwasher was your priority."

"The one that was there died," he said. "I got a cheap one. I think for the real kitchen I'm going to do the ones that are drawers." 

"Those are pretty cool," she conceded, unpacking her stuff onto the blue counter. "Can the outlets handle a waffle maker?"

"As long as you use the ones to the left of the sink. Anything over the yellow tile is disconnected."

"Got it." She scanned the room, planning her mis en place. "This will be an adventure."

He hopped up on the yellow counter. "Regretting not staying with the kitchenette?" He paused. "Also, you're making waffles?"

"I am making chicken and waffles. All fancy like." She set the maker on the counter and found the plug. "Which I need space for, but not a tremendous amount of fancy equipment."

He pointed. "Cast Iron frying pan in the cabinet to your left."

"Excellent. I could tell just looking at you that you knew the value of a good cast iron."

"My Mama is very particular about her chicken. And besides, nothing's lazier than cooking everything in a pan you don't really need to wash."

She grinned and finished setting up her dredging station. She'd soaked the chicken in buttermilk overnight and had whipped up the waffle batter earlier. Now it was a matter of combining everything. The cast iron went on the stove and she started the oil heating while she started dredging. 

"So how are the inmates?" he asked, watching her work.

"Hanging in there. Tony continues to need excuses to talk to me that are absolutely not sessions. Oh!" She looked over. "Wanda wants to put ASL in my head. She said she did it to you?"

"I did. It's the oddest thing. It's kind of like copy-pasted data. She copied it out of Zev's head, and gave it to a number of us."

"And you haven't noticed any ill effects?"

"No, and it's made talking to the guy much easier. We run the same trails, and unlike most of the rest of those assholes we run at a normal pace. Chuck does not jog, so we could never chit chat. Wanda fixed it."

She nodded and went back to her work. "I guess I'll be joining the club on Monday, then."

"I take it he wants to come see you? Doesn't surprise me, he seems pretty self aware. And med school is tough."

"It's mostly in conjunction with Wanda at this point," she said. Sharing details of the sessions was off limits. But Sam was, more or less, a colleague in the quest for Avengers mental health, much the way Amanda was. She didn't think it was out of line to give him vague or general information. "Doing couple's therapy isn't effective when everything is being filtered through one person. And, apparently, there's stuff Chuck doesn't need to hear."

He laughed. "I don't doubt that. I think Chuck's Kinsey scale number is like. . .15. He already hears more about Wanda's boobs and the floating sex than he probably wants to."

"He is a very good sport," Lani said with a laugh. "But doing it without an interpreter has its appeal."

"You should do it. It's a handy skill, and I promise it doesn't scramble your brain."

"As long as she doesn't need to remove something else to squeeze it in." She checked the temp on the oil then started dropping chicken pieces in. "Of course I never did use the quadratic equation."

"Our brains have plenty of space."

"If you tell me we only use 10% of our brains I will come over there and smack you."

"No, that's total bullshit. If it was true, head injuries wouldn't be anywhere near as worrisome or, you know, fatal."

She nodded. "Good. We may continue our acquaintance."

He poked her chair with his foot, making it wobble slightly. "Come on, now. You're making me chicken. I think we're at least friends by now."

Slightly afraid she was blushing, she glanced over at him. "You make a good point."

"Though I'm pretty sure I know way less about you than you do about me. You're lousy at talking about yourself."

"Wow, I really do have the perfect job."

"Excellent dodge," he replied. "It's like you're a professional."

"There's like two whole classes in that in shrink school." Using tongs, she carefully turned the chicken so it browned evenly. "If there's things you want to know about be feel free to ask. If I just start talking about myself I'm afraid it will sound like evaluation notes. 'Lani Yee is a woman in her mid thirties. She is paraplegic, but otherwise healthy.'"

"I admit I kind of want to ask you the sort of questions everyone asks, but I'm not going to because there should be at least somebody who doesn't."

"You mean things that don't involve my spine?"

"Tell me something I don't know about you, that does not involve your spine."

She considered a moment, busying her hands lining a cookie sheet with paper towels for the chicken to land on. "My favorite book is anything by Neil Gaiman, my favorite movie is _Ratatoullie_ , and my favorite style of art is Impressionist."

"Old-school photorealistic portraits, _Die Hard_ , and I love books about endemic diseases and natural disasters."

" _Die Hard_ , really?"

"I like that he visibly gets the shit beat out of him. Like that's how you look after a fight. Way too many action movies have people who apparently had a stylist fluff their hair and replace their shirt between scenes. And your movie is about a talking, cooking rat."

"Okay, first off, I am a cook so it speaks to me on a spiritual level. And second, that movie has the best message in a kids movie I've ever seen."

"Have more rats in the kitchen?"

She waved her tongs at him threateningly. "Not everyone can be a great chef, but a great chef can come from anywhere." She started fishing the chicken out of the oil and lining it up on the cookie sheet. "People like to tell kids they can be anything they want, but it's not always true. Not everyone has the same gifts or opportunities. I am not a good artist, nor do I understand science and engineering. I could never have been Monet or the next Tony Stark. But I did find things that I did enjoy and was good at pursued them whole heartedly. That is a much healthier message for children." She finished that batch of chicken before putting the next pieces in and went over to the waffle iron to start pouring batter. "Except Ada Marsh. She might be able to be anything."

"I see what you mean, though." His fingers hovered over the chicken but didn't touch. She bet his mother whacked him on the hand with her tongs more than once. "Little black boys in Detroit aren't usually told they can be president."

The waffle iron hissed pleasantly as it started to cook. "I don't mean kids shouldn't have dreams or try. But I had a lot of friends who had panic attacks in high school because they got a B and knew their parents would freak the fuck out. Because they were supposed to be a doctor or a computer programer or whatever and anything less was unacceptable. The idea that you could find your passion regardless of background or expectations is a novel idea."

"My parents wanted me to aspire to having a good union job. My Dad worked for Ford for thirty-six years."

She looked over at him, enjoying a brief moment with nothing to do or fuss with. "Generally joining the armed forces is an acceptable alternative to that."

"To my father, yes. To my mother, it had the potential to violate her rule about not doing anything to get myself shot."

"Mm, that would be a conflict, yeah."

"In her defense, I did then choose something super intense and super dangerous. Which was about par with my other choices in life so far, so it's not like I didn't have a track record." He had stealthy snagged a drumstick. "But I did always want to be Gabe Jones."

She rotated the chicken and switched out the waffle, then started heating up her syrup. "He was one of Steve's Commandos?"

He nodded. "They were one of the only integrated units during World War II, because they were made up of prisoners who helped Steve stage a jailbreak. Hydra was trying to build super soldiers, so they sent out requests for POWs who'd hailed from distinguished Allied units. Jones was a Tuskegee Airman. Morita was from the 100th Infantry. Plus they had a British paratrooper and French Resistance bomb maker of some repute. Steve declared them to be the best men regardless of color and dared the brass to tell him different."

"I suppose there's a good reason they made movies and comic books and tv shows about them."

"Some of those are better than others. Some horrify Steve."

"Sharon and I had a rather animated discussion about the Saturday morning cartoon we apparently both watched." She glanced over at him. "It's almost ready, you should probably set the table."

"Yes, dear," he replied, hopping off the counter.

She put together serving trays and brought them to the table while he fetched plates, utensils and drinks. After a double check to make sure the stove and waffle iron were off, she took her sport at the table. "Buttermilk chicken with wild rice waffles with pink peppercorn butter and maple-horseradish syrup."

"That sounds way fancier than your originally described chicken'n'waffles."

"I'm pretty sure I specified fancy-like." She drizzled syrup over her waffles with a flourish. "My specialty is seafood but that's a bit hard to come by up here. Though I hear there's fish in the lake?"

"There is. Amanda fishes. So does Clint and occasionally other people."

"Maybe I can convince Stark to toss some Ono in for me."

"Can they survive in freezing water?"

"Well, I'd wait till the summer." She paused with a bite halfway to her mouth. "There is a summer here, right?"

"Yes. It's hot and muggy. There are a lot of lake activities. We have a pontoon boat. Well, it's the Bartons', but everybody uses it. Can you swim?"

"Yes, though I use an inner tube and float, mostly. I tan like crazy, too."

"Pontoons are apparently great for that. This is really great, by the way."

She inclined her head. "I'm glad you like it."

He ate a little more, before asking. "You happy you came out here?"

"I am, actually. The people are good the work is interesting. And that house is far larger and nicer than anything I ever could have gotten in the Bay Area. Or it will be once you're done with it," she added with a wink.

"Your house will be awesome once I'm done with it."

"I have every faith in you."


	7. Chapter 7

After dinner they debated over movies, and somehow ended up watching a surprisingly fascinating PBS documentary about Prohibition. Cal had set up a unit in his living room—and run a fiber-optic line through is property—so Sam had access to all of the compound's systems, including FRIDAY and the Starks' massive media library. The documentary was long, and they kept stopping to talk about things like how much Tony used to drink or self-medication of untreated Civil War veterans. By the time it was actually over, it was very late.

Lani yawned broadly and glanced at her watch. "Ugh, I'm glad it's the weekend."

"You normally an early riser?"

"Usually. I like a little quiet time to exercise and have my coffee."

"I don't want to be, but it's a hangover from the Air Force that I can't seem to shake."

"Some habits become permanent. Like it or not."

He turned off the TV and tossed the remote on his coffee table. "Neural pathways too worn in to be changed."

"Better early rising than drinking or fingernail chewing." She stretched her arms over her head and cast a glance at the still messy kitchen. "I should get going."

"I'll deal with the kitchen," he said. "I'll bring your waffle maker back on Monday. You going to be okay driving?"

She hesitated, which was probably all he needed to know. "The roads should be empty, at least."

Well, he probably had some gentleman in him somewhere. "How about I drive you and your car back? I can steal something from the motor pool to get back here."

"Are _you_ okay to drive?" she asked.

"I'm a superhero," he said in response. And then he thought of something else. "Does your car even have pedals?"

She blinked, then laughed. "No, it doesn't. Nor does it have a driver's seat. Lord, I am tired."

"How about you crash in my guest room? It has heat and everything." He wasn't _entirely_ sure the bed had sheets on it. It did have laundry on it, though the laundry was at least clean. "I'll just need five minutes."

Her smile indicated that maybe she knew the frantic cleaning and bed making he would be doing in those five minutes. "That's probably the best idea. I think I'll take a crack at the kitchen for five minutes. So I can sleep easy."

"You've got yourself a deal."

He headed up to check out the room and could hear plates clinking before he was halfway up the stairs. There was, in fact, several loads of laundry on the bed. He swept those into a couple baskets and shoved the left overs into the closet, where he found a spare set of sheets that smelled a bit aggressively like cedar, but were at least clean. He'd stolen the quilt out of this room a month or so back when the furnace went—that was not a fun or cheap week—and had to go find it in his room. It was mercifully folded and hanging neatly off his bed's foot board.

It was only after he put it on the bed that he realized to get on either side of the bed, he had to turn sideways because there was so little space. Unless she could somehow catapult herself into the bed with the chair—and knowing her, she'd probably try—he needed to move the furniture.

When Lani came looking for him, oh, fifteen minutes later, he had the nightstand in the hall, the dresser in the closet (the clothes from the closet now in his room), and the bed flipped lengthwise along the back wall. Since she could just float up the stairs like a ghost, she startled him when he went out to retrieve the nightstand. "Hi."

She had her chin propped on her fist, elbow braced on the arm of her chair. "On the one hand, I want an explanation. On the other, the things I'm coming up with in my head are more entertaining than the truth could ever be."

"My house is not ADA compliant." When he'd bought it, there had been three small bedrooms, as was common for the era of the house. He took a wall down and converted two into a larger master. His room, of course, had plenty of space. Not that he wanted to follow that thought down it's path.

Leaning over, she peered into the room. "Ah, I see. If it's too much trouble-"

"It's already done. And it's less trouble than sleeping on the couch." He lifted up the nightstand and carried it back in, putting the lamp back on it. It was now nowhere near the room's only plug. There was at least the overhead light. "I don't actually have a lot of guests," he said by way of explanation.

"It's all right. It's not like you had any notice."

"You're probably going to need to use the downstairs bathroom, the upstairs one was clearly made out of closet."

"I should really thank Tony again for this chair," she commented, patting the arm.

"He takes good care of his people. I used to think if you ever came for dinner I'd have to carry you around like a pack mule."

To his surprise, that made her flush a little. "That was my first thought when I saw your front steps."

"I'm sure it's nice to be able to preserve autonomy," he said quietly. Even if part of him was sorry he didn't get to.

She lifted a shoulder. "Sometimes it's romantic. Though not when pack mule comparisons start."

"Well I would happily carry you around. With whatever label you'd like." He probably shouldn't have said that. But it was late, and tiredness and darkness put your guard down.

Lani cleared her throat and glanced away. "I will definitely keep that in mind."

He cleared his throat as well. "Right. Room's ready. Anything else you need?"

Blush darkening, she said, "I don't suppose you have anything I could sleep in?"

"Sure. Of course. What do you. . . sleep in?" This conversation was remarkably awkward considering how well they got along. There was a certain intimacy in discussing beds and sleeping in a semi-dim room, standing next to a bed. Sleepwear. Lack of sleepwear.

The vibe was weird because the vibe wasn't platonic.

Looking rather reluctant, she said, "I use night gowns at home so if you have a t-shirt or undershirt it'd probably be fine."

"I should have left the basket of them in the closet, you'd have your pick." He pointed in the general direction of his room. "I'll go get you one."

"Thank you. I'm going to go use the restroom. Maybe just leave it on the bed if I'm not here."

"Okay." He paused, then said. "The radiators get hot fast, be careful with them. And I'm right over there, go ahead and knock if you need anything else. Actually just knock before you go to bed. You don't make footsteps so I have know way of knowing you haven't fallen through the floorboards or something."

She laughed. "Yes, sir. I'll check in."

"Good night, Lani,” he said, and turned down the hall. "Watch out for the ghosts," he called back.

He left a sleeveless under shirt on the bed for her and went back to his room to get ready for bed. She knocked just as he was coming out of his en suite bath. "Good night, Sam. I'll see you in the morning."

He walked over to his door, but didn't open it. Instinct told him not to. "Goodnight," he called through it instead. There was a pause, then she rapped a little pattern on the door. A moment later he heard the door down the hall close gently.

Despite being kind of unsettled, he slept better than he expected, and his dreams were quiet. Something to be said for having someone else in the house, he supposed. She was still asleep when he woke up, so he went downstairs to get started on breakfast.

He was pondering how and if to wake her when he heard puttering in the bathroom. She came into the kitchen a few minutes later, hair pulled up in a messy bun, still wearing the shirt he'd given her, over the jeans she'd worn the night before. "Coffee?" she asked hopefully.

He pointed to the pot that was brewing. "Hey, I know you."

"Mmm, so you do." He watched out the corner of his eye as she poured herself a a cup and put in an obscene amount of sugar and milk before taking a spot at the table. "Whatcha making?"

"Some kind of omelette thing. It would be an omelette if I had an patience, but I don't. So it's more of a scramble. You like mushrooms?"

"I do not, you've mocked me for it previously."

"Yeah, I'm not committing that offensive statement to permanent memory, sorry." He moved the offending vegetables away from the peppers and onions. And then his doorbell rang.

Lani's brows lifted. "Expecting anyone?"

He'd forgotten until right then. "Apparently my memory is not having a good week. We're putting down tile at your house today. I promised my laborers breakfast. This is why I have so many egg." He pointed at her. "You're distracting." And also, sitting at his table early Sunday morning in his undershirt. They were going to have a field day.

They doorbell has been abandoned and there was now someone knocking rythymically on his front door. "What do you think looks worse?" Lani asked. "Me answering the door or finishing the eggs?"

"We could make a run for it."

She grinned. "Get aways are not my strong suit. Also, my car is out front. I'm guessing one of the assassins outside will notice."

"It's Bucky and Steve. Clint doesn't do mornings." He sighed. "Cook, you're better at it," he said as he went to get the door. Might as well get this over with.

He handed her his spatula on his way. When he opened the door, it looked like Bucky had been halfway to picking the lot. "Hey, you're not dead!"

"I don't stand by the door waiting like you're my prom date, Barnes."

"He worries," Steve said. "Did you know your upstairs wiring is a deathtrap?" He sounded like he was repeating something he'd heard more than once.

"Whatever. Before you come in. . ." He pointed to both of them. "Not a word."

"About what?" Steve asked.

"You'll see. It's not what you think, but be grown ups anyway."

Steve was still clearly confused, but Bucky's expression indicated he had, in fact, noticed Lani's car. They followed him into the kitchen where Lani was working over a pan. "I have patience, so you're getting omelettes. Hello Steve and Bucky, do you like fungus in your breakfast?"

"She doesn't like mushrooms," Sam muttered. He could see the two of them looking at each other, but neither commented, so he went to get orange juice out of the fridge.

After a moment of silent conversation, the two centenarians poured themselves coffee and found spots at the table. Lani prodded them again about filling preferences and in a few minutes she was serving up perfect tri-fold omelettes full of veggies and cheese.

"This is really good," Bucky said around a mouthful.

"Thank you," she said over her shoulder, shaking the pan with Sam's.

He leaned on the counter next to the stove. "Now your tile will be extra nice."

"If I whip up some fancy lunch for you all will I get fancy mosaic details?"

"I like you," Steve said.

"And now I know that Captain America is food motivated." She slid the next omelette onto a plate and handed it to Sam with a smile.

"You want to come with us?" Sam asked her, his voice quiet, not entirely sure which option he wanted. "Or do you have things to do today?”

"I have some errands to run, actually. But I will come by with some lunch."

"Good, it will give them time to get it out of their system."

"I figured." She winked at him as she poured more egg mixture into the pan. "You be sure to tell them I was phenomenal."

He made a choking noise. "I'm sure you would be."

She winked again and he forced himself to take his plate to the table while she cooked her eggs. Steve and Bucky were casting him significant looks as they ate but he studiously ignored them. The two of them needed so much extra food that they needed another round—this time Sam made scrambled eggs while Lani went to get her things.

The boys were halfway through round two when she appeared in the doorway, dressed and ready to go. She waved and he brought over the bag with her waffle iron and bowls and such. "Thanks," she said, taking it from him. "I'm sorry they're going to tease you."

He walked her to the front door. "Probably. But they won't gossip, so it's not like it will be a thing. And this _is_ pretty fishy looking."

"Oh, yes. The assumption isn't a stretch."

He laughed, grateful she was a good sport despite his friends being idiots. One of any number of reasons why he liked her. "I had fun."

"So did I. We should do it again sometime." She glanced back in the direction of the kitchen and added, "But double check your schedule for the day after."

"I promise," he said. He leaned in the doorway and watched until she got into her car. He didn't need to, he was sure, but he did anyway. She waved one last time before backing out of the drive, then she was gone.

The guys were waiting for him in the kitchen. "I can't believe you're sleeping with my shrink," Bucky said.

He put the dishes in the sink. "Get your mind out of the gutter. She just crashed here."

Bucky tilted his head. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. We watched a movie and she was tired and I can't drive her car." If he was lucky, this line of questioning would be brief. It would probably help if he sounded less defensive. "We ready to work or what?"

After exchanging a look with Steve, Bucky shrugged. "Sure man, let's go."

"Are you guys going to do that all day?"

"Do what?" Steve asked.

"Exchange significant glances."

"Only when talking about Dr. Yee," Bucky told him. "The rest of the time you probably won't sound all defensive and secretive so we won't have to."

"I'm allowed to have friends that aren't you people," he told them, going to the mudroom to get his tools. "Beyond that. . .I have no fucking idea right now. Just promise me no one is going to embarrass her."

"We won't tell anyone." Steve was bordering into Cap voice, but it was more reassuring than authoritarian. Sam wondered if that was the voice Sharon got when they were fighting.

Bucky nodded. "Friends discuss personal lives, I'm told. We were bonding."

"Sharon and I needed space while we figured ourselves out," Steve said. "I understand. Let's go bond over manual labor instead." 

Steve was a good wingman.


	8. Chapter 8

By March, Lani had enough of her house done that she could move into it. The heating system still needed replacing, but it was for cost more than function. The steam boiler put out an almost overwhelming but very expensive amount of heat. Back home in California this would be comfortably into spring, but in Ithaca snow was still on the ground.

She was on Mark II of her chair—this one folded itself into a suitcase, among other improvements. Work was stressful; Violet Marsh had become involved in an increasingly acrimonious dispute with her late husband's mother over Ada and Neil and their plan to have Bruce legally adopt them. The grandmother had involved a lawyer. Bruce wanted to send half of the Stark legal team after them, Violet wanted to not star a war, and the Hulk was so upset by the possibility of anything happening to the kids Bruce barely had a handle on him. Lani saw him every morning these days, to help him reason with the increasingly anxious alter ego that lived in his head. 

Wanda came in every day now, too, because stress like that was contagious to a telepath.

"If there is one constant in human nature, it's people worrying about the wrong things." Sam was under her kitchen sink, trying to figure out why her brand new faucet suddenly had almost no water pressure. "The last people on Earth the Hulk is a danger to is those kids."

"To be fair, this is a not uncommon scenario. Widow's former in-laws getting upset over the second husband."

"They're not actually married, you know. Oh, there we go." Something clanked a few times, the faucet rocked back and forth, and then he slid himself out from under the sink, holding a thumb-sized piece of plastic. The motion bunched his t-shirt up a couple of inches and she was too distracted by his abs to pay attention to the next thing he said.

That was actually becoming a bit of a problem. Her attraction to him was undeniable and all but impossible to ignore. She was confident as she could be that it was mutual. But given her position and their somewhat complicated professional relationship (was he her supervisor? Colleague? De facto patient even though he hadn't come to see her since her initial, mandatory assessments?) neither of them was comfortable making a move.

And so they danced around it, with the sexual tension ramping up higher and higher.

He was watching her expectantly, so she cleared her throat and blinked. "So it's fixed?"

"No." He managed to drawl that one word, then grinned at her. Probably because he'd just said that while she was busy ogling. He shook the piece of plastic. "Cartridge is clogged. I can probably clean it out if you've got a long needle. The rust-spewing galvanized pipes are a different matter."

Her nose wrinkled. "I feel like you're about to tell me I need all new pipes."

"Possibly." He rolled up to his feet without bracing his hands. "I haven't seen rusty water elsewhere. Maybe stuff just got knocked loose during the work."

Honestly, moves like that were just not fair. "What if I just turn on all the faucets full blast?"

"I'd take the shower heads and sink aerators off, but that may help. We'll have to see. Oh. Speaking of people being married." He put the cartridge on the counter and went to rustle in his bag. He pulled out a square envelope. "Pietro told me to give this to you. Why he assumed I'd see you before he did, I have no idea." 

That statement was, of course, total bullshit. They were at each other's houses all the time.

She took the envelope and carefully unsealed it to reveal a wedding invitation. "He and Ora are making it official?"

"They got engaged last year. I think they wanted to do something in the summer, but her mother will apparently die of shame if she's showing in her wedding pictures."

Lani chuckled. "Well, March is a lovely month to get married in." There was an email to RSVP at and she pulled her phone out to reply before she forgot. "Will I get to see Avengers in bridesmaid dresses and rented tuxes?"

"No attendants. Wanda got ordained on the internet and is marrying them. Suits and cocktail dresses. Though Avengers will be in them. Steve and Sharon's wedding was super formal, I could dig you up pictures if you have some sort of Superheroes in Black Tie fetish going on."

"I've seen pictures. They have several up in their house." Due to Sharon's hectic schedule, they had started doing some of her sessions at home so she could spend time with Joey. "As well as a picture of all the women in Vegas dresses from Natasha and Clint's wedding."

"Some people have flair, I'll give them that."

"Pretty sure my mother would have a heart attack if my bridesmaids showed that much leg."

"So would mine," he replied. "My little sister is getting married in the fall, and she calls me to complain about our mother and the bridesmaids dresses. It's 45 minutes of her bitching and me repeating 'Keisha, I am not getting involved'. Seems nicer than 'Keisha, I don't care', which would be more accurate."

She grinned, tucking her phone away. "My brother has a girlfriend he's probably going to propose to someday. I pity the girl and her mother because my mom is not going to be okay with the hands-off mother of the groom role."

Sam shook his head. "I ever get married I'm going to elope."

"I haven't read any professional studies, but anecdotal evidence indicates people who elope don't regret it."

"I've heard the less you spend the happier your marriage is. Which I think is correlation, not causation."

Lani snorted. "Marriage and divorce statistics are so complicated when you take into account socio-economic status, participant age, and various other factors that you can pretty much argue that anything is true."

He picked up the faucet cartridge and rapped it on the counter. "You got that needle?"

"Would a chopstick or skewer be small enough?" she asked, moving over to a drawer. "I don't knit or anything."

"I meant like a sewing needle. Toothpick might do."

"That I can do." She dug a moment before finding a box of plastic picks and tossing them to him. Then she watched him lean on the counter and pick the chunk of rust out of the faucet, muttering under his breath about modern plumbing fixtures.

"I think spending time with two men in their hundreds is rubbing off on you."

He grinned. "Probably. Don't mock me, I'm fixing your sink." He crouched down and crawled back under the sink. 

His shirt was riding up again and she looked heavenward. _Oh, give me strength._

There was more clanking, and then, "Turn on the faucet."

Carefully hovering over his legs, she leaned forward and cranked the faucet on. Water came out full blast. It _also_ apparently sprayed out below, as Sam made a noise of surprise and moved, his knees hitting the bottom of her chair. It flipped sideways and unceremoniously dumped her out. She had no idea how he moved that fast, but he caught her before she hit the floor. Lani landed in his lap, both of them getting sprayed with water from somewhere beneath the sink.

Reaching past him, she shoved one of the cupboard doors shut, angling the water away from them. Sputtering she slicked wet hair out of her face and blinked at him. He reached under the sink to turn the water off without taking his eyes off her. He wiped water off her face, following the line of a droplet down her cheek with his thumb. "You okay?"

She shuddered a little at the touch and it took her a moment to find her voice. "Y-yes. Yes. Fine. I'm fine."

This was probably the sort of thing that should be funny. They should be sitting in the puddle on her kitchen floor laughing. Instead they were still, staring at each other, breathing almost in sync. "Lani, this isn't gonna go away." His voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

She exhaled sharply. "No. I know, it's not."

He nodded once, in agreement or just acknowledgement. The he curled his fingers behind the nape of her neck and pulled her close enough to kiss her. With a sigh, she leaned into him, cupping her hands over his shoulders. He was just as hard and muscular as he looked. Her type had usually been more lean and tall, but she was seriously starting to appreciate a man who could support his bodyweight on one pinky.

It was a slow, scorching kiss, making up for the fact that they were both cold and wet from the sink. Slowly, all of the silent rules and boundaries they'd made for themselves peeled away. His other arm went around her waist and tugged her closer so she was pressed against his chest. She wound her arms around him, cupping the back of his head in one hand, fingers running along the soft fuzz of his hair.

The chill got her eventually, though, and it was her shiver that made them break apart. "Shit, you're soaked."

"So are you," she pointed out.

"I have done sit-ups while soaking wet in subzero temperatures while wearing goggles full of salt water."

She probably shouldn't find that image hot. It did help with the shivering, though. Tilting back, she stretched to reach for her chair, but couldn't. "I need to have him add voice control on the next version."

He hooked his arm under her knees and stood. "Let me get you a towel so you don't get it went. And then something to clean this floor." He set her down on the counter, which put her about eye level. "Where do you keep them?"

"Towels? There should be some in the dryer." She pointed to the laundry room off the kitchen. He kissed her again, quick, and then went looking for them. He came back with two and wrapped one around her before pulling her chair over and folding the other onto the seat.

Lani scrubbed at her hair, then tugged the towel around her shoulders. Reaching for him to help her transition to the chair was almost instinctive and completely natural. She'd used his arms to brace herself more times than she could count, something that was in and of itself different for her. She tried not to depend on people. Now they just kind of did it without thinking. This time, though, he actually picked her up, a sort of intimacy she wouldn't let anyone else do.

Though she didn't actually make it to the chair, as somehow they ended up kissing again. It had been a very, very long time since she'd done nothing but make out with a guy for minutes at a time. Clearly, trying to ignore the attraction had done nothing but increase the intensity when the dam finally broke.

"Has anyone ever told you you're an excellent kisser?" she murmured when they broke for air.

He laughed a little. "Honestly, I can't really remember my middle name right now." 

She grinned and kissed him again. "I really would like dry clothes, though."

"Sorry," he said. He fussed with her towel, and then set her in her chair.

His shirt was plastered to his chest and it was really tempting to ask him to come upstairs with her. "You want me to try to find you something?"

He looked down and plucked at the fabric. "Do you own anything that would fit me?"

"I'd have to look, but I think some old t-shirts stolen from friends made it in the move."

"Friends." He pointed at her. "Wearing your last man's clothes is weird."

After a brief mental debate she said, "I really mean platonic friends. I don't have any old boyfriends who would have been leaving clothes behind."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't ask. "Then, yeah, thank you. This is a little damp."

"Master of understatement, you are. I'll be back in a bit." She turned and headed upstairs, listening to him rummaging for something to clean up the mess that was now her kitchen.

Once upstairs, she peeled her clothes off and ducked into the shower to warm up a bit. After drying off - again - and slipping into sweats she rummaged through some of her unpacked boxes before finding a Stanford sweatshirt that was probably originally her brother's and headed downstairs.

While she was gone, he'd apparently fixed the sink, as he was turning the faucet on and off without water spraying everywhere. He'd also taken his wet shirt off. Clearly, he groan was audible, because he looked up. Lani covered her face with the sweatshirt.

He laughed. "Have I offended you?"

"Sudden attack of shy," she admitted. Taking a deep breath, she counted in her head until she felt strong enough to hold the shirt out for him.

"Sorry," he said, sounding like he couldn't decide if he should be smug or apologetic.

“No, you're not." New topic time. "How's the sink?"

"Working perfectly." He turned around to put the sweatshirt on. She didn't know why he thought that would help. His back was a work of art. This was the kind of guy who could give a woman a complex.

"Seems I owe you dinner, then."

He turned back, watching her. "Why don't we go out?"

"I enjoy others cooking for me almost as much as I like cooking myself."

"Good, 'cause if we stay here, we're gonna get ahead of ourselves."

"Yes, we will." She cleared her throat. "We should probably have some sort of conversation before that happens."

He smiled at her. "I expected that, yeah."

She cleared her throat again. "You want to go out tonight?"

He held up his hands. "If you don't want to, that's cool. This might surprise you, but can feed myself. It's inferior, of course, but I make do."

"No, no. I'd like to go out." She grinned. "We can have an official date."

He looked down at the sweatshirt. "We seem to be dressed more for pizza than a genuine date."

"Pizza is a perfectly cromulent date."

It was surprisingly easy to find a good pizza place in Ithaca. College town and all. They found a booth in the back. Hoverbot Mark II had retractable arms so she could just scooch over into the booth, and then it folded itself down for Sam to shove under the table.

Sometimes the tiniest conveniences were so wonderful. 

"But I am going to buy you a nice dinner," Sam was saying. 

"I hope you're not expecting me to protest," she replied. "Though if you really wanted to impress me we could go down to Manhattan."

"Ah, I see how it is. We get pizza, you pretend to be a cheap date, and then you spring your $400 wine habit on me."

"I was thinking more high end sushi and $400 sake, but we can see how it goes."

He grinned and leaned back in his seat. "Now _that_ I can hook up."

Something about that grin made her wonder if she should be worried. "That was almost too easy."

"It's nothing shady. Stark is buds with the chef/owner of Tatsu. He and Pepper can get takeout. The rest of us. . . tables materialize when we call." Lani had heard some very rich and/or famous clients of hers all the way in California whine about not being able to get reservations at Tatsu.

Her mouth was actually watering at the thought of it and she had to give herself a little shake. "Well, if I wasn't already going to put out, that would do it."

He actually choked on the soda he was drinking, and then murmured a rather reverent, "Damn." So she _could_ fluster him. That was good to know.

They were interrupted by a waitress bringing their pizza over. It smelled divine and they busied themselves claiming slices and adding pepper and parmesan. "So, was I misinterpreting what we were talking about here or are you used to a more circumspect kind of girl?"

"I wasn't sure where on the spectrum you fell. You had trouble with shirtless."

"I wouldn't classify it as a _problem_." She grinned. "But I was definitely getting to the point I was concerned about 'getting ahead of ourselves' as you phrased it."

"That I can handle. For a minute there I was afraid you might be one of those lights-off, hole-in-the-sheet people."

She laughed. "No. No. Though I'm not. . . " Frowning, she poked at her pizza a minute. "This is an area I do not have a lot of experience in."

He was quiet a moment. "Hard to sift through the weird fetish people?"

Inclining her head in agreement, she sipped her drink. "I was seventeen when I got in the chair. My late teens were spent adapting to my new reality. Then I was in school. I missed a good chunk of the time most people learn how to date. Finding a hook up is straightforward but it's really hard to be that vulnerable with someone you don't know well. And most people aren't looking for a relationship."

"Can't say I was," he replied. He reached out and touched the back of her hand. "Life happens."

"Yes, it does." She looked at his hand on hers a moment, then said, "You still haven't asked me what happened."

"I have half a dozen awkward questions that I'm probably going to have ask before we get naked—which are not things to bring up in a pizza joint—but that's not one of them. It's not my business. You are as you are."

She was pretty sure the awkward questions were going to tip over past half a dozen, but that was for later. This was something she wanted to get out in the air, though. "It was prom night. I was in the front seat with my date. My best friend and her boyfriend were in the back. Another car T-boned the driver's side. The boys died on scene, my friend was in a coma for two weeks and never woke up."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Thank you." She lifted a shoulder. "There are scars. And other things we can cover in an later awkward conversation. But I wanted you to know the whole story."

"My best friend died in Afghanistan." She knew that, it was in his file. But notes like that only had the most sterile of details. "I watched. He was shot down and I followed him like some how he was gonna survive a grenade and a five hundred foot fall. You haven't lived until you've held somebody you love's brain matter in your hands." He winced. "God, I'm sorry, that was really. . .graphic." 

"It's fine. Really. I'm not easily horrified. If we're getting into morbid secrets, I still have the dress I was wearing. What's left of it anyway."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

"'Cause it was my prom dress." She was a little embarrassed that her voice cracked. "And I wanted to try to remember the happier part of it."

He turned her hand so their fingers laced together. "You know that's the thing that fucks soldiers up so much. You have these horrible memories, but you have good ones, too, all mixed up together. The best times of your life and the absolute worst. Sometimes only an instant of violence apart." 

She nodded. "It's actually what got me into psych. I saw a lot of therapists afterwards. I liked the idea of helping people get through trauma."

"You seem to be pretty damn good at that."

"It I were a different kind of person I'd say it was meant to be. I'm a better therapist than a chef. But that would be utterly depressing."

"Fate is bullshit," he replied with more force than was probably needed. "And you're a great chef."

"Thank you," she said with a little smile. "I will say, I'm glad my road led me where it did. Though I'd have appreciated a less abrupt turn."

Before he could reply, from somewhere in his pockets his phone began to emit James Brown's _Living in America_. "Hang on," he said. "That's Steve, it might be something."

Several of them seemed to have some sort of patriotic or America-themed ringtone for Steve. Lani was really curious if this was some sort of group joke, or just a very funny example of friends with similar senses of humor. If she ever got to the point she needed to assign him one she'd have to keep it in mind.  
 She ate her pizza and pointedly tuned out his conversation, in case it was personal and not work related. It was very short, and he sighed with aggravation. "I have to go in."

Swallowing, she nodded. "Can you drive me home or should I call a cab?"

He looked at his watch. "Come to campus with me, we'll have someone drive you home."

"That works." He pulled the chair out for her and she used his arm to help slide back into it. She tossed a couple dollars tip in the table and followed him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering if we know the other America/patriotic themed ring tones the group has the answer is yes, of course we do.


	9. Chapter 9

The hangar they launched the jets out of was lit up like a football field, people milling about despite the chill. Sam took her in through the back, hoping to avoid most of the crowd. "Darcy's probably around here somewhere, she usually comes for load ups." 

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd wanted to bring her here before they headed off. His afternoon had taken a turn for the unexpected, and it had thrown him off kilter. Not in a bad way, but he just. . . didn't want her to go yet.

"I'm sure I can find someone to help me out," Lani said, sounding like she was trying to reassure him.

"I guess you do know all of them pretty well by now, don't you?"

She grinned up at him. "You could say that, yeah."

"You wanna come see the wings?"

Something unreadable passed behind her eyes, then she nodded. "Hell, yeah."

The prep areas at Stark Tower had been more crowded, but here they each had their own individual little rooms for storage and changing. The rumor went that someone had been caught fooling around in the communal armory and so design changes had been made. He had no idea who it was back in Manhattan, but he knew for a fact that Steve and Sharon sometimes snuck into his gear room at night.

Sam's was particularly spacious so he could stretch the wings out to check them. "I do have to change," he told her. "If you need to avert your eyes."

"Just the top, or will there be bare ass? I don't think I'm emotionally prepared for bare ass on a first date."

"Are we negotiating? Because I need to change my pants, but I don't do commando. So that's covered ass."

The combination of shit-eating grin and blushing she was doing was kind of adorable. "I can handle clothed ass."

Looking at her while changing would probably be a mistake, given how he could feel her looking at him. He yanking off the Stanford sweatshirt and tossed it blindly in her direction. She giggled when it landed on her and it took her a few moments to get untangled, which gave him a head start on getting his jeans off. He turned away from her to grab his gear and swore he heard a very appreciative sigh.

This had been a terrible idea. That was a very sexy sound.

Most of his uniform was to protect him from road rash if he fell short distances, to keep out bullets, and to keep him warm if he was up high. Structural reinforcements made it less tiring to hold his body in place while flying. But the best part, the wings, looked as unassuming as a backpack when he put them on.

He turned back to her once it was on and found her watching him with more innocent curiosity than ardor. Which was good, because hooking up in his prep room was sounding better and better. "Ready?" he asked and she hiked a brow, but nodded. Then he triggered the wings and she jumped at the filled the room.

"Wow," she breathed. That, that was worth it. Yeah, so, he'd brought her here to show off a little. He was a superhero, after all.

The original wings were much stiffer, more mechanical. These, redesigned by Stark, were much more organic feeling. They moved a bit like they were part of him, and he could wrap them around himself for protection. He did feel just a little bit like the archangel Gabriel. "Thank you," he replied, because he felt like he should say something.

She reached out and touched the edge of the wing closest to her, fingers stirring the metal "feathers." "They're lovely."

"I can't say anyone has ever used that word before."

She met his gaze and _now_ her expression was heated. "Well, I have a unique perspective."

If she was going to look at him like that. . . He braced his hands on the arms of her chair and bent down to kiss her. She cupped his face and met him for an intense, intimate kiss. When her arms slid around his neck he straightened and lifted her, and she hung on. She wasn't exactly heavy. The wings wrapped protectively around them.

The privacy curtain at the entrance ruffled and he heard Doc's voice. "Hey Sam, are you ready?They sent me- Whoops." The curtain snapped back into place. "Sorry. Wheels up in three."

He sighed. At least it was perhaps the least gossipy team member possible. "Thanks, Doc."

"No worries." A pause. "Lani, if you'd like to join the Wives Club I believe they're congregating at Sharon's this time."

Lani ducked her face into his shoulder. "Thank you, Amanda."

He kissed the top of her head. "They're nice people."

"I know. But that would be a rather. . . loud announcement."

"Yeah." He unwrapped the wings and folded them back up. "We should have sent you along earlier, to help facilitate their support group." He set her gently back down. "But, you know, River in Egypt and all."

She smiled. "We really should have known better."

"Listen, we have no secrets around here. If you want to go hang out with them, go. If not. . .I'm pretty sure they're going to put you on the email list anyway, so somebody will notify you when we're on our way back."

"All right." She curled her fingers around his hand. "I'll go talk to Sharon or someone. Chances are she'll invite me regardless. I think it would be useful for me to be there, even on a professional level."

"I should go, they'll send someone more obnoxious if they have to come looking for me again."

"Good luck. I'll see you when you get back."

He grinned, yanking open the curtain. "And we'll have a nice dinner."

"Damn right." He looked back to see her grin and wave, then headed out to the hanger to join the others.

He found Darcy near the doorway with her checklist. "Hey. Can you get a car to take Lani home, she's in the back."

She looked at him, eyes assessing behind he glasses, then glanced to where he'd pointed. "I'll take care of it, sure."

He was grateful for the lack of commentary. "Thanks." He still had no real idea what was going on, because they often didn't get into it until they were in the air, if it was dangerous and military-related. Which meant it probably was. Whatever it was, they had the full team. The wife line was crowded enough it would probably have made Lani claustrophobic.

On the jet, Clint was doing his pre-flight check. "How long is the fight?" Sam asked him. 

"Long enough you don't want to sit in your gear."

That was a very Clint Barton answer, but it was the actual question he had, so he took his wings off and found somewhere to sit.

The Barneses were across from him, Bucky in his tac gear and Doc in yoga pants and a tank top which meant she was going to be in her exo-suit for the mission. It was on its fourth or fifth version since the Battle of Sokovia and was only getting lighter and more maneuverable. Tony had even convinced her to put some weapons in this last revision.

Wanda was next to her, drinking an energy shake and looking very rumpled. Clearly, he was not the only one who had been enjoying his evening prior to the phone call. Pietro came on a minute later and sat next to Sam. Wanda lowered her mug and looked at them for a moment, then quirked an eyebrow at her brother. He turned a little and punched Sam in the arm.

"What the--?"

"That was from her. She didn't tell me why."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Think quieter, then," she said taking another swig of her drink.

Nat walked past to join Clint in the cockpit, and Thor wandered on after her. "Sky's clear the whole way," he called up front.

"Thank you, sir," Clint said. He turned around. "We're picking up the Iron Dudes in California. This plane needs a horn I can honk at the stragglers."

Wanda wiggled her fingers and an old-school car horn honked outside. Bruce and Vision came jogging up the ramp a moment later. Nat turned in her seat. "Where's Steve?"

"Captain Rogers is having difficulty relinquishing the baby," Vision said diplomatically.

Sam looked across the aisle and met Bucky's eyes. He held up his fist to indicate they should rock-paper-scissors who had to go retrieve their friend. Bucky sighed and held his up. Together, they thumped them into their other hands and Amanda shook her head when she realized what they were doing.

Bucky had rock and Sam had scissors so he stood with a sigh and thumped back out the gangplank. Steve was over by the wife line, but Sharon wasn't. Sam realized he must be in DC, which meant Steve needed to hand the baby over to Violet, something he clearly was having trouble with.

Bucky would have been better at this. Still, he tried to sound as gentle as possible when he said, "Hey, man, we really gotta go."

Steve blew out a breath. "I know, I know. I just -"

"Sharon will be home tonight," Violet said, in a tone Sam had heard her use on both her son and the Hulk. "I'll only have him a few hours and I'll do it at your place so he'll have all of his stuff."

He took a breath. "Okay." He carefully handed the baby over. Joey fussed but settled. Steve straightened his shoulders, turned on his heel and marched towards the jet. Sam reached out and patted Violet on the arm before following.  
 Steve had taken a seat away from the others and was doing his manly stoic thing, so Sam just gave Clint the all clear signal and sat down while the gangplank lifted.

Sam's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he found a text on his screen. _I'm been driven home in a Bentley._

That made him smile. _It means they like you. Or fear you._

_Both. Both is good._

_Teasing is minimal. I may have lived to be mocked another day._

_Glad to hear it. We should at least do something worth getting teased to death for._

He tried not to grin too much. _Indeed._

"Oh God," Wanda groaned, covering her ears. He shoved his phone in his pocket, grateful he couldn't visibly blush.

Steve looked down at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled. "People are thinking loudly."

"Think quieter," he said at the cabin in general, and then leaned his head back against his seat. Sam decided he'd apologize to Wanda later. Privately.

*

Ora and Pietro's wedding was at a very nice hotel ballroom big enough to hold Ora's large, loud, boisterous family. It took a lot to take the spotlight away from the Avengers but the extended Martinez family managed to do it.

Lani got them towels off their registry, dug out one of her sexier cocktail dresses and went alone. She and Sam had planned to go together, but he'd been roped into some pre-ceremony shenanigans and she had assured him she was fully capable of making her way there on her own.

The last couple of weeks had been a study in frustration and self restraint. Between her work, various missions and _very_ curious team members they hadn't had a lot of private time to pursue what they'd started. There had been a couple of very heady stolen kisses in her office and a couple of cancelled dinner plans. If she was being honest she was mostly looking forward to the wedding so she could spend some time with Sam. Even if they would have a couple hundred chaperones.

The room for the ceremony had white chairs and dark drapes, but was devoid of decoration aside from a runner. The Martinez half of the room was grumbling loudly mostly in Spanish as they filed in. Something must have gone horribly wrong with the flowers. She wondered if that was what Sam was up to, and had a sudden mental image of the Avengers who could fly hopping from flower shop to flower shop all over the county looking for roses.

She was escorted to her seat by Steve, who just picked up the fancy chair on one of the aisles and let her slide into the spot. She didn't see what he did with the chair, but he did return a few minutes later with Helen Cho, and directed her to the seat on Lani's right. For a moment she wondered if she should make something of the fact that Steve Rogers assumed she was there alone. Of course, he might just be flustered if he had been roped into this because of flower-gate.

She had met Helen briefly the month before when she'd come to do some work in the labs. They made idle chit chat while more guests filed in, joking about being the hot Asian doctor section and trying to eavesdrop on the Martinez family mutterings with Lani's spotty Spanish. The room filled quickly and she was grateful she had an aisle seat or it would have been rather claustrophobic. 

Her phone buzzed. _I'm in the back. Your row's full, didn't want to make a thing._

_I knew I should have said something to Steve. I'm sorry._

_Nah, it's way more interesting back here. Two dudes behind me are arguing over who makes the best fast food tacos._

She grinned. _That's way better than the gossip up here. The ladies across the aisle from me are trying to figure out EXACTLY how pregnant Ora is._

_Btw, you look gorgeous._

It took everything she had not to try to peer around the crowd to spot him. _Thank you. I look forward to your big reveal._

_It's a suit, it's really not that exciting._

Before she could answer, the music changed, the lights dimmed, and Wanda stepped out from one of the side drapes. She came to the head of the aisle where the ceremony would be performed. Sam had said she'd gotten ordained, as Ora and Pietro's answer to the priest-or-rabbi argument was 'neither'.

She took a deep breath and turned her hands up as if she was praying, moving her fingers like she was playing an instrument. Delicate tendrils of sparkling red light shot upwards, and suddenly the ceiling was covered with them. Like a mass of twinkling stars and glowing vines, they hovered overhead and crawled down the wall. The crowd gasped, and then fell silent.

It was honestly one of the most beautiful things Lani had ever seen.

After everyone had had a moment to appreciate the view, Pietro stepped out from the side as well, glancing up at the light show. He grinned and pecked Wanda's cheek before taking his sport at the head of the aisle. The music changed and everyone stood, turning to look to the back for Ora to make her appearance.

Someone, it seemed, had at least found her flowers. Her dress disguised her bump rather nicely, though it didn't seem to please the gossips across the aisle. The bride did not appear to notice.

Wanda's lights formed a canopy over them during the simple ceremony. It was short, and heartfelt, and there was crying. Pietro dipped her for the kiss, which made Ora giggle and smack him lightly when he straightened her up. Then they linked hands and Wanda gestured, turning the lights into a fireworks display as the newlyweds headed back down the aisle.

Then the guests began to empty. Large moving crowds were one of Lani's least favorite things in the word. She'd just gotten sucked into it when she remembered she didn't have to remain eye-level with people's torso's, and floated the chair up higher. As a bonus, she managed to locate Sam in the crowd.

He grinned when he spotted her and they managed to meet up just outside the doors. "You look very good in your suit," she told him, looking him up and down.

"It's the only one I own."

"Well, you make it work." She reached out and touched his cuff. "Hi there."

He turned his hand and tangled their fingers. "Hi."

For a moment, they just stood there, letting the crowd surge around them. "Are you on duty tonight or do I get to monopolize you?" she asked finally.

He grinned. "I am all yours."

She couldn't ignore the little shiver of heat his words caused. "That's just full of possibilities."

The crowd was thinning, and he gave her hand a little tug. "Come on. Wanda told me she sat us next to each other." 

Lani wasn't sure how much the rest of them knew about what was going on with her and Sam. But Wanda certainly knew. You couldn't hide much from a telepath, and apparently he was a particularly loud thinker. Though Lani herself wasn't sure how quiet she was, either. Wanda had opened their last session with a plea/warning not to have sex in the office.

Being seated with Sam meant she was at a far nicer table than she imagined she would have otherwise. The tables, at least, had floral arrangements, though they were very simple and mimicked the look of Wanda's light show. Steve and Sharon were already at the table and Sharon grinned when she saw them. "It's nice to see you out of the office, Dr. Yee."

"Then you should absolutely call me Lani."

"Sorry my husband fails at ushering."

Steve held up his hands. "I was trying not to assume." 

"It's fine, Helen and I had a nice chat. She didn't have a date and didn't know very many people in the crowd."

"I appreciate your attempt at boundaries, Rogers," Sam said. "We do have a problem with being all up in each other's business, usually."

"I have been on the receiving end of the nosy small town thing we have going on," Steve responded. "I've got your back."

Under the table, his hand found hers again. "Thank you."

She squeezed his fingers as the conversation moved onto Wanda's light show and the ceremony and how lovely Ora had looked.

Eventually Bucky and Amanda came to sit at their table, as did Clint and Nat. Last week Wanda had been talking about organizing the team into thematic and/or relationship clusters, and how they were a group of overlapping circles of closer friends within the larger groups. Wanda described it like a binary star system, as nearly everyone was in the orbit of either Tony or Steve. They'd discussed the psychology of friend groups dynamics, and at the time she'd assumed it was a thought exercise.

Now, sitting at the table that could be labeled "Steve's Minders", she wondered if Wanda had just been doing seating charts. It was not a thought that seemed appropriate to share, so she smothered it as waiters came out with their salads.

The bride and groom came in, and champagne was passed around. Wanda stood up and gave a speech. Ora's father gave a speech in Spanish. Tony Stark gave a speech just because he was Tony Stark. At some point during the speechifying, Sam draped his arm across the back of her chair. It was perfectly natural to rest her head back against it.

When Tony sat down Bucky turned to Steve. "Quick, now you do one, let's see how long we can keep this running."

"No way," he replied. "I want to move along to the main dish before Sharon starts eating the plates."

Without comment, Amanda opened up her purse, pulled out a baggie of what looked like Chex Mix and handed it over. Sharon immediately tore into it. "There," Amanda said. "I've bought us time."

Nat reached for her water glass. "Violet is the official Team Mom but Amanda manages a reasonable facsimile."

Amanda pinned her with a look. "I'm not angry, just disappointed."

"See?"

Steve gestured at the head table. "When we were in Seoul chasing Ultron, and those two changed sides, I seriously wanted to beat the crap out of Maximoff over there. Then Amanda charges in and starts handing out power bars."

"And see how my decision was the right one?"

Waiters began bringing around plates of dinner then. It amused her everyone at the table had apparently ordered steak. Steve and Bucky had both been brought two meals. Steve cut his second steak in half and gave it to Sharon.

"Thank you, baby," she said.

   
"Now that's love," Bucky agreed.

Lani had ordered the fish, because it had been ages since she'd had seafood and had hoped this nice of a hotel would have good quality salmon. It was perfectly cooked, with a lemon beurre blanc that complimented it nicely. She apparently made a little noise of appreciation when she took her first bite, causing Sam to give her a look that was both amused and heated.

She sucked the next bite off her fork very slowly, and he raised an eyebrow. This was really getting out of hand if they were apparently making something out of eating fish.

"So are you two a thing now?" Bucky asked. "Are we allowed to talk about it?"

Sam smiled at her, then looked back at his food. "Yes. And it depends on what you want to discuss."

“Oh, thank God," Amanda said. "I've been singing show tunes in my head every time I've been near Wanda."

Bucky swiveled to look at her. "You knew and didn't say anything to me?"  
 “Yes, because unlike the rest of you hens _I_ can keep a secret."

"Oh, Wanda knows," Sam said. "Wanda's known a while. Possibly longer than _I_ have, come to think of it."

"That's pretty common with Wanda," Sharon said, apparently having eaten enough to rejoin the conversation. "She's getting better about hiding stuff, at least."

"Apparently I think loud," Sam said.

Lani reached over and rubbed his back. "It's all right. She'll probably be relieved to not have to hide it anymore."

"There will be a brief period where people ask you lots of questions," Nat said. "Then everyone will get used to it and you'll be normal again. We're kind of like a big, nosy family."

"I think I can handle that."

When dinner was finished, dancing started. The dance floor was quickly crowded with many rowdy Martinezes, and only Clint and Nat got up to dance. Then Thor came over with two glasses, setting one down each in front of Steve and Bucky.

"That's Asgardian Mead," Sam told her. "I don't know if you've ever wanted to see drunk sure rsoldiers getting down on the dance floor, but it's funny as shit."

"Some times there's WWII drinking songs," Sharon chimed it.

"I'm very on board for this."

"There will be no singing," Steve said sternly as he knocked his drink back.

Two hours later, he and Bucky were singing a bawdy French song, with Sharon translating between laughter and a bunch of the Martinez cousins singing counterpoint in Spanish. The Avengers sure knew how to throw a party.

The arm on the back of her chair had evolved into fingers on the back of her neck, tangled in her hair and tracing little patterns as they watched the dancing. It was very, very distracting. Not that she had much else she needed to pay attention to.

Lowering the arm on her chair, she scooted closer to him, leaning into his side. Sam was warm and solid and smelled of some sort of spicy aftershave or cologne. "Do you want to go early?" she murmured. "Or are you holding out for cake?"

He nuzzled her hair. "I did hear the cake was is really good."

She grinned, curling her hand over his thigh. "And we might get an encore out of the super soldiers."

"They sound worse the drunker they get."

A middle-aged black woman Lani hadn't met pulled out the chair on the other side of Sam and sat in it. "Jim told me you had finally gotten a girlfriend and I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it." Sam laughed as the woman leaned around him to old a hand out to Lani. "Hi, honey, I'm Vanessa Rhodes."

Lani reached past Sam to shake her hand. "Lelani Yee. Nice to meet you. You're Colonel Rhodes' wife?"

"I am. Pepper didn't feel well enough to come, and Tony got into the Mead, so my husband is. . .occupied."

Lani gave her credit for having only a minimal amount of bitterness in her tone when she said that. Being the wife of Tony Stark's best friend - especially pre-Avengers Tony - must be a trial. "Well, at least there's enough responsible people around he probably won't blow any holes in the hotel."

"He knows I'll tattle on him." She smiled. "I hear he listens to you. That's very, very tiny club. So I had to meet you."

"Listens to me might be an overstatement. But I think we're getting there."

"That's still a feat. Believe me."

Lani smiled and inclined her head. "He speaks highly of your husband."

"As he should." She looked up. "And speak of the Devil."

Tony and Steve were coming towards them. "Wilson! Get up, we're making an Avengers Conga Line."

"Seriously?" It was a dry as she'd ever hear Sam's voice.

"We have _got_ to keep him out of the mead," Lani said.


	10. Chapter 10

The two of them, being drunk, were not going to let up on this conga line thing, forcing Sam to get up and leave Lani before they made some sort of scene. Vanessa would keep her company. And probably tell her embarrassing things about him.

The dance was silly, but didn't take very long. Drunk people weren't that coordinated. Wanda found him and giggled while she gave him a spontaneous hug. "Are you drunk?" he asked, amused.

"Not on booze. Everybody is happy tonight. A lot of people are horny, but everyone is happy. Even Bruce and Violet are happy." She pointed to where they were dancing. "So _I_ am happy. I might drag Zev into the coat check room."

Sam laughed. "Good for you."

She grinned. "You are _very_ happy. And the other thing."

"Should I be apologizing or what?"

"No, no. It's good. I'm happy for you. Both of you."

"Thanks. You think your brother will be offended if we sneak out early?"

"I'm concerned Pietro and Ora are going to beat me to the coat room. I doubt he'll notice."

"Well, Thor did bring the Mead." He squeezed her shoulder. "Have a good night, Wanda."

"You too, Sam." She kissed his cheek and danced off. Presumably to find Zev.

He strolled back to his table. The other women had sat back down, as dessert was being passed out. Was there no cake? He didn't exactly care. The table's laughter stopped cold when he approached. "I see how it is," he said as he sank into his chair.

"We were totally not talking about you," Lani assured him.

"Certainly not about your ass," Nat confirmed.

"Well, as long as it's complimentary, please continue."

Lani rested a hand on his knee. "The phrase 'bounce a quarter off it' was used."

He put his hand over hers and laughed. "That's probably true."

"In a minute we were going to tell her about the Flag Pole Incident," Sharon said.

He put his hand over his eyes. "Oh, good. Drunk stories."

"Now I really want to hear it."

"We had a barbecue for Steve's birthday and the 4th of July," he said. He might as well tell it. "Somehow—there was a lot of drinking involved—some of us dared Steve to see if he could be a human flag. Basically hold himself out sideways from the big flag pole by the front gate. This then became a contest as to who else could do it, and how long they could stay up there."

"There are pictures," Sharon said. "I was pregnant, so I was sober."

"Did you win?" Lani asked him. "I mean you basically have to do a plank while you're flying, right?"

He chuckled. "I do, but I don't hang by my arms. Sgt. Metal Arm won. It might have been cheating."

"That's totally cheating."

"He tore a muscle in the real arm," Amanda said. "It healed overnight, but still."

Sharon shook her head. "Never underestimate how competitive the Brooklyn boys are."

"I sprained my wrist," Sam muttered. "It took longer to heal."

"Never underestimate the toxic combination of testosterone and alcohol," Lani said with a grin.

He squeezed her hand. "Eat your cake."

"Yes, dear," she sing-songed.

He leaned over and whispered, "Then we can leave," into her ear. She turned and gave him a very knowing look before taking a slow bite of cake. He held her eyes the entire time.

When she'd finished, which took a goddammed eternity, they said their goodbyes. Steve hugged him - it was nice that he was a happy drunk - and Pietro was, indeed, nowhere to be found. Clearly, a good time was being had by all.

He waited until they got outside to ask. "Your place or mine?"

She considered a moment. "Mine might be easier since it's set up for me. Then we're not adding everyday annoyances onto the already awkward conversation and first time jitters."

"Sounds good. You need to drive, I came with Steve."

"Follow me, then." She had parked herself in the hotel deck since the valet couldn't drive her car. He slid into the plush leather passenger seat and she started up the engine, sliding silently out of the spot. "Do you want to wait until we get to the house for awkward conversation?"

He looked over at her. "Will it be somehow less awkward in the car?"

She chuckled. "I'm not sure. We could avoid eye contact. That could be a plus."

"How does it usually go?"

"Well, I've never actually had it with a guy I expected to see past that night. So it's usually a check list of basic information and some reminders during the event itself."

She was, he noticed, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. "I know what you mean, and I'm probably not supposed to make jokes, but I'm picturing like a whiteboard over your bed with neat little boxes to check. Which really probably all women should have. Get a score at the end. Over 85 gets to come back."

To his relief, she laughed. Probably harder than the joke deserved, but clearly she had some tension to release. When she had calmed, she rolled her shoulders and blew out a breath. "Okay," she said softly, almost to herself. Then, a bit louder. "Okay. So. Bullet points and you can ask for clarification?"

"I suppose my biggest question was how well can you feel? If one-night-stands seemed like a worthwhile activity, though, I'm guessing pretty well."

"Keep in mind these were guys who got off on being with a girl in a chair, so they're a little more willing to make accommodations. Otherwise I post a negative review on Devotees.com and they lose their rep." She gave him a sidelong glance and he grinned, glad she was now joking.

She cleared her throat. "I can get off with manual stimulation on my clit, more or less as easily as any other woman. I find penetration pleasant, but I am not going to get an orgasm out of it. Yours is not the magic dick that will cure my nerve malfunction. Trying will only annoy us both. I like the sensation and the view, so don't feel you need to rush, but waiting for me is a losing proposition."

He choked in laughter on the 'magic dick' line. "You know that's not uncommon among women with perfectly functioning nerves, either."

“Oh, I know. Though, I had some sex before the accident and seventeen year old me could get off on a strong breeze and teenage fumbling. Which is probably why I have sufficient sensation, now."

"So the accident may have saved you from being a crazed sex fiend?"

"Or an unfortunate teen pregnancy," she confirmed solemnly.

As long as they were both still laughing, this would be just fine. "So what else in on your bulleted list?"

"I have some sensation in my upper legs, but not enough muscle control to move them. Missionary is going to be the easiest, though you're probably strong enough to get inventive, if you want," she added with a glance at him. "And on the slightly grosser end, I'm going to need a trip to the bathroom to clean up after we're done. It's not personal, UTIs are just really unpleasant."

"You know, they recommend all women do that."

She glanced over at him. "Do you read a lot of Cosmo or something?"

"I dated a med student who lectured me about urethra lengths when I asked why she always leapt up immediately to take a piss."

"Good for her," she said, laughing. She turned down her street and into her driveway. Turning the car off, she took a breath and looked over at him. "Anything else you want to ask?"

"Birth control?"

"I have an IUD." She tilted her head. "I'm capable of getting pregnant, but it would be . . . an ordeal, so I'm careful. I had blood work done when I came out here, including an STI panel and was clear."

"Likewise. Doc keeps a pretty tight watch on us." He ticked off on his fingers. "Two. Do you hog the covers?" 

She opened her mouth, then closed it. "I don't know. I don't move around much so. . . probably not?"

"Three. Can I rip that dress?"

Brows raised, she glanced down at herself. When she looked back at him she was grinning. "Fuck yeah."

He decided to take that as a sign they'd had enough conversation, and leaned across the center console to kiss her. She sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He didn't want to push, but the eager response encouraged him to sink deeper into the kiss.

 After a long moment she groaned and leaned back. "Let's go inside."

"Mmm. Inside. I agree." He kissed her once more before opening his door.

She got out and he followed her up the walk to the front door. She'd only been in the house a month or so, but she'd already made it her own, with a big colorful welcome mat and pictures on the walls of the foyer. When they got inside she pointed at his shoes and reminded, "Off."

"I hate these shoes, I'd have happily left them at the hotel." Dress shoes, not his thing. He kicked them off and leaned over to kiss her again. When her arms went around his neck, he lifted her up.

"You're the only person allowed to do that," she murmured against his mouth.

Her stairs were only a few feet in from the door, so he started up them. "Kiss you? I should hope so, I don't share well."

She nipped at his lip, sucking it into her mouth a moment. "You know what I mean."

"I do," he told her. She was very careful about letting others move her around, in a way that someone who had full control of their own body wouldn't think to be. He'd just lifted her up and carried her away from her own mobility. It was an act of trust, maybe one bigger than the sex itself, and he damn well knew it.

He knew where her bedroom was; thanks to all the work he'd done on the house he knew where just about everything was. She'd put a dimmer on the overhead light and he hovered by the switch so she could fiddle it to her preferred mood lighting. He would have been content will the LEDs blasting full strength, but she left him enough light to see her clearly, and he wanted her to be comfortable.

Once she was happy with it, he turned and sat on the side of her bed, arranging her so she straddled his lap. It was far easier and less awkward than he'd pictured it in his head. Her dress had bunched up nearly to her waist, and he reached behind her to find the zipper. "Might be too pretty to rip."

She smiled and stroked his cheek. "I'll wear it again for you someday."

"Deal," he replied, sliding the zipper down. "Arms up." She raised them over her head and he pulled the dress over her head. It dislodged the combs holding her hair up and it tumbled down everywhere. 

She had gorgeous hair, thick and silky. And, to his delight, no bra on under the dress. He trailed his hands along her sides and she shivered, eyelids drooping.

He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her throat. "No, but seriously, you are gorgeous."

"Mmm, thank you." She slid her hands under his jacket and pushed, forcing him to release her long enough to shrug out of it. Her fingers went to work on his shirt buttons as he continued his exploration. "You're pretty damn nice to look at yourself," she told him.

While he was busy kissing her he popped off his cufflinks—Steve had bought him this shirt and he liked cufflinks shirts—before letting her go again so she could get his shirt off, too. She lost her balance pulling his undershirt over his head, but he caught her. The way she crashed into his chest was worth it.

She puffed out a little breath and nuzzled his shoulder. "Good thing you have quick reflexes."

Her skin pressed against his felt so good. He just rubbed her back and held her for a long moment, enjoying the connection. He found himself saying, "It's been a long time."

He felt her finger trail along his spine. "You didn't take advantage of the groupies?" she asked gently.

"Like I said. Not my scene." He kissed her shoulder. "Empty sex is just that."

"Can't argue with that." Her wandering hand curled around his ribs and stroked up and down. "How long?"

He matched the motion, following the lines of her ribs. "Years." He'd had a girlfriend not long before he'd met Steve. His insomnia and crazy dreams had been awful back then, and she didn't last long. He'd been pretty busy ever since.

Lani leaned back a little, just far enough to see his face but still very much connected to him. "Did we have the wrong awkward conversation in the car?" she asked, smiling and stroking his cheek again.

"Don't worry, I didn't forget how."

She grinned and kissed him, slow and deep. "I hear it's like riding a bike."

"Spoken like someone who hasn't been on a bicycle in like fifteen years." She laughed and he leaned back and flipped her around onto her back. They kissed like that for a while, hands wandering in matching torturously gentle touches. He found that if he ran his hand down her leg where the sensation vanished into numbness, she giggled uncontrollably. "Oh, I'm saving that for later."

Gasping for breath, she swatted at him. "Don't you dare. Taking advantage of my infirmity." She managed a mock stern expression until he shifted his hand on her leg and the giggles started again. For a moment he just watched her, smiling and flushed beneath him. Right then she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

The look on his face sobered her and she propped herself up on her elbows to kiss him. It was rougher and more demanding than it had been and it sent heat through his veins. He could feel her expired patience in it. _Good._

He slid his hand between her legs this time, and found her very wet—something that had been on his list to ask about that they blew right past. She gasped against his mouth and he was surprised to feel her lift up a little.

She stayed up on her elbows and he alternated between kissing her and watching her as he touched her. Glancing down, he saw her hands clutching the comforter in a death grip. When he looked up again he found her watching his hand move, eyes bright, lip caught in her teeth.

Pressing a little hard he stroked a little quicker and her head snapped back, eyes closed. "Close, I'm close."

That was the speed, then. He bend his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth, and her entire body jerked. Now that hadn't been on her bulleted list. Her arms wobbled and she fell back. He followed her, sucking harder. She cupped the back of his head, holding him right where he was. Her body started to twitch lightly against his hand and she whimpered, shaking. He blew cool air on her damp nipple. "Come on, baby."

Her back arched and he felt her fingers dig into the muscles of his neck. "Coming," she gasped. "Coming, I'm-"

He could feel her trembling, right there on the very edge, just about to break. Very carefully, he lifted his hand. She sucked in a ragged breath and her eyes flew open. There was more murder than confusion in them, which was once of the many reasons he adored this woman. "Hang on, trust me."

"You have seconds to live, Wilson," she ground out, still shivering a little.

He moved just enough to deal with his damn suit pants, which he probably ripped. He didn't care. "Trust me," he repeated. He grabbed one of her pillows to help lift her into the right place, and slowly slid inside her. He pressed her clit in the same motion, and leaned down to capture her nipple again.

She moaned, low in her chest. Her hands curled over his shoulders and she held tight as he started to move slowly. Muscles twitched around him buried inside her and he could feel every inch of her climb back to her peak.

"Fuck, make me come," she begged. "Make me come, Sam." He quickened his hand and felt her start to pulse against him again. Her words blurred into a wail and she arched under him, shaking. 

He rode it out with her, let her pull him with her because if felt better than anything ever had. The two of them losing themselves in each other. He sank down on top of her, burying his face in the curve of her throat as the world spun. Her arms came around him, holding him tightly and for a little while they stayed just like that, tangled together.

Eventually he mustered words. "If you need to kill me now, go ahead. That was worth it."

She patted his back affectionately. "You get a reprieve."

He shifted off her so he wouldn't crush her, propping up on one elbow and flattening his palm on her stomach. "You okay?"

"Were you not here two minutes ago." He gave her a stern look and she grinned. "I'm just fine. Though I will need a lift to the bathroom when you're ready."

He groaned. "Movement. Okay." It took him a second but he managed to sit up, then pick her up so he could carry her to the bathroom. He left her in there and found his underwear on the floor. "You want something to drink?" he called through the door.

"I would, thanks," she called back. "There's soda and stuff in the fridge."

He got a couple of cans of soda, and some snacks, then went to the front hall to retrieve her chair. He grabbed a towel from her linen closet on the way back, to put on the seat in case she didn't want to sit bare-assed in her chair. He knocked on the bathroom door. "I brought the Hoverbot."

The door creaked open to reveal her in a robe sitting in her old manual wheelchair. She smiled when she saw the Hoverbot. "Ah, thank you. I keep this one in here for showering and stuff. I know Tony says it's waterproof but it just feels wrong."

"I brought food." He bent down to kiss her. "Come back to bed." She wrapped her arms around him and looked at him expectantly, so he lifted her, carrying her back to bed and settling her what was clearly her side. Once she was comfortable he went and pulled the Hoverbot over and got the manual chair out of the way, then joined her.

She handed him a soda and popped the top of a Pringles can. "This was worth the wait."

He stole a Pringles. "Damn right."

She rested her head on his shoulder, sipping her drink. For a few minutes they snacked in silence, just enjoying the other's presence. When they were winding down and he was starting to yawn, Lani kissed his jaw. "Do you have nightmares?" she asked quietly.

He sighed. "Sometimes. Nothing like I used to." He looked over at her. "Emotional events dredge weird shit up, though, so who knows tonight." 

Rubbing his leg under the covers, she leaned into him again. "It's all right. If you kick me aim for the lower leg."

That made him laugh, and pull her closer. "Come here."

They settled together, Lani tucked at his side with her head on his shoulder. "Good night, Sam."

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. She really did make him happy. "One thing I was wondering about. . ."

"Quick before I fall asleep."

"So do I get this Magic Dick title or what?"

She laughed and gave him a little squeeze. "I think you're going to need to repeat the miracle to get an official title."

"Is that a challenge? That sounded like a challenge."

"It was totally a challenge."

He sifted her hair through his fingers. "First thing in the morning."


	11. Chapter 11

Lani generally slept restlessly, unless she was totally exhausted. Rolling over was a production that usually required at least minimal consciousness to ensure her legs didn't get tangled or in an awkward, injury prone position. Sam made it both better and worse. He was restless as well, though not as violent and rough at she'd been worried he might be. It was a little awkward to move around him, especially as he seemed to like being in contact with her.

Eventually, she found a position on her side with one of her legs over his, putting her hips in alignment. His hand wrapped around her thigh, even in sleep, holding her there. So she wedged her pillow between her head and his shoulder and spent the remainder of the night like that, wrapped around him with his arms holding her safe. It was the best night's sleep she could remember.

She woke up before him, and there was no way to get untangled without waking him. He'd slept pretty still, too, once they'd found the right spot. Like he'd also, for once, actually slept deeply. He didn't even stir when she shifted around.

Torn, she tried to go back to sleep, but the need to move became somewhat urgent and she stretched up to kiss his jaw. "Sam. Wake up, baby."

He made a grumbling noise, and didn't open his eyes. "Mmm. What?"

"I have to pee and cannot escape your manly arms."

He lifted his arms, and then opened his eyes with a yawn. "You need help?"

"No, I've been peeing on my own for over thirty years now." She rolled away and retrieved her leg before using her hands to scoot to the edge of the bed and grab the Hoverbot and transitioned over. "Though when I'm done, we could look into that Magic Dick hypothesis."

He tucked his hands behind his head. "Now we're talking."

She cruised into the bathroom and closed the door because they were definitely not at open door policy yet. She had long gotten used to the production that was her basic functions. It never bothered her until she had someone waiting for her. Telling herself he was probably dozing and not timing her, she did her stuff, washed her hands and took a moment to brush her hair before heading back into the bedroom.

His eyes were closed and it looked like he was asleep, but he opened them as soon as reached the bed. It reminded her of the first day he'd shown up in her office and dozed on the couch. She heaved herself onto the bed and he reached for her, so she let him pull her across the sheets into his side. "Good morning," she murmured, kissing him.

"Good morning," he murmured against her mouth. "Got any plans for today?"

"Well, it's Sunday." She left one hand wander his chest and stomach. "This feels like a worthwhile activity."

He sucked in a breath. "I do not disagree."

She kissed his shoulder. "Maybe with snack breaks to keep up our strength."

"Well, of course. Working out on an empty stomach is bad business." He lifted his head. "We need more pillows."

God bless innovative men. "In the trunk at the foot of the bed."

It was probably the first day since she was in college that she spent entirely in bed. Sam fetched them snacks and drinks and she took regular bathroom breaks, but otherwise it was the two of them, in her bed, napping or exploring all the ways they could touch and stroke and make love. He was strong enough to move her and support her, so they managed positions she had long thought off the table. He was seemingly tireless, with patience and sense of humor to get them through the few awkward moments they came across.

When she introduced him to the vibrator in her nightstand things got _really_ interesting.

The sky was pink and orange with sunset outside her window. They'd tossed her covers off the end of the bed and were sprawled out, Sam's head on her stomach as she rubbed the rock-hard muscles in his neck and shoulders. He was gently tracing the scars on her legs and hips, left from the accident and subsequent surgeries. She could barely feel the touch, but found she greatly enjoyed watching him touch her, the dichotomy of his rough hands and her scars and the contrast of their skin tones. "Can we just stay here forever?" she murmured.

"I think Monday is going to happen whether we like it or not."

"I could totally influence Tony into creating a time machine."

"I bet you could." He was quiet a moment. "The next time I go up, will you come be on the Wife Line when I get back?"

There was a remarkable amount of significance to the Wife Line. It was referred to as a joke more often than not, but it clearly mattered deeply to the team members. Lani had had a session with Wanda recently trying to unpack the emotions attached to it, as more often than not Zev was busy with work and school and couldn't be there. Intellectually, she knew it was nothing personal and in no way a sign their relationship was faltering. Lani was sure Zev would much rather be there then pulling a double digit hour shift at the hospital. But still, not having someone to meet you on the Line was a painful thing.

"Of course," she said, stroking his hair. "I'll call Sharon in the morning and officially get in the Club."

He turned his head and kissed her skin. "Thank you."

"You've given me a great deal of. . . normalcy in our relationship. Anything I can do for you I'd like to do."

"I fight occasionally supernatural bad guys in a giant pair of wings for a living. I don't exactly bring the normal."

Laughing made her stomach shake and he turned his head to nuzzle her. "I think normal is a spectrum. What's normal to the spider is chaos for the fly."

"Oh, here comes the mystical Asian wisdom."

"Actually, that was from the Addams Family movie."

He lifted his head to look at her. "I want to make you happy. If I do, then we're good."

"You make me very happy," she told him, stroking his cheek with a knuckle. "And ditto."

He smiled and leaned up to kiss her. She pulled him closer and he murmured, "Okay. Once more and then we're calling for pizza."

They drove into work together the next morning, after a stop at his place so he could change. The drive was spent discussing leaving clothes at each other's places and having her come over and help ADA his room. It was nice that they were both on the same page of how serious this was. Benefits of adults with long dry spells and no communication issues, she supposed.

They said goodbye in front of the medical building with a kiss, before he ran off to work out and she headed inside. She stopped at the cafe for a cranberry juice because she was taking no chances, before heading to her office.

Wanda was waiting out outside for her. She beamed and spread her arms. " _Good_ morning."

"Yes, it is," Lani agreed, using her palm to open her door. Wanda bent and hugged her and she looped an arm around the other girl, squeezing tightly.

"Wow, I could honestly just sit here and bask in your mood for an hour." 

"We could try that," she said, ushering Wanda into the room. "Don't think I've ever been both talk therapy _and_ a drug for a patient."

"I'm having a good morning anyway. I could hear my niece for the first time today."

"That's wonderful! What does she think of her current predicament?"

"She's very cozy in there." Wanda smiled. "It's such a weird thing. I mean, she's my family. My blood. When she's born, I might look at her and sometimes see my mother. It's kind of a miracle, you know?"

"I've found that babies can be very healing for those with traumatic childhoods. Abused children find some sort of peace in not repeating mistakes. And those who've lost their parents find strength in continuing the line, often for the reason you state."

"It's done a lot of people here good, I think. Parenthood. Children seem to settle dark thoughts. Re-arrange priorities. Given some of the dramatic personalities around here, I think it's a good thing." 

Lani nodded. "Children are stressful, but often grounding. And for a group like this, very normal."

"Normal is very valuable." She pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and fiddled with them. "There is a danger to them though. Children. Something to live for is also something to kill for."

That was a sentiment she'd heard from others in the group. "That's not confined just to superheroes."

"The Marsh family wants to take the children. They want custody. The Hulk won't let anyone take them. It's only a matter of how ugly it gets before they stop trying. And I know that the only person who could stop him is me." She took a slow breath. "This morning I'm listening to my brother's daughter's mind come on line and I thought I really understood him. That to keep that baby safe I would scorch the earth like the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs." She looked up, eyes full of fear. "And I knew as soon as I thought it that I _could_."

Wanda's fears were always complex, and almost always came back to how very strong and dangerous her powers were. "You could," Lani conceded. "You could do a lot of things. But you don't. For the same reason the Hulk hasn't gone to tear up Violet's in-laws' house. Because you are not just a collection of powers, but a human. With a brain and a conscience. You shouldn't be afraid of your desire to protect your niece or your future children or any of the children here. Because anyone who is trying to legitimately hurt those children are going to be a bad person. And defending the innocent from bad people is exactly what heroes are for."

"Political reality is much murkier, though. People can be bad and still be lawful. And visa versa."

"That's true. Though arguing that sort of worst case scenario is rather defeatist. If we're to the point that people are lawfully coming after children than there are a dozen other things that have gone wrong as well." She paused. "I know you're worried about the rumblings in Congress. Everyone is, to once degree or another. You in particular have a lot at stake. But that's a rabbit hole without a bottom. There's no way to predict what's going to come down the pipe and in the meantime you will rob yourself of joy."

"Zev's busy a lot lately. I get lost in my head."

"And your brother has been busy, as well." Wanda nodded. "Is there anyone else that you can lean on for some calm?"

"Sometimes I go over and have lunch with Thor. He's very calm and much harder to read/hear than the rest of them, with can be nice." She paused. "You've made the only other chill mind on the team think _way_ more about sex than I feel like listening to."

Lani was pretty sure she was blushing even as she laughed. "I'd apologize, but I'd be lying."

"It's okay," she said with a smile. "You're so happy."

"It's been a long time for both of us," she admitted. "And in my case something I wasn't sure I'd ever find."

"Somebody who can handle your weird? Yeah, me neither."

They talked about that for a while and Lani encouraged Wanda to find more people she might find soothing while Zev was finishing his training. When the session was over they hugged again, at least partially, she suspected, so Wanda could get a little mood boost before facing the world.

She had free time before her next appointment, so she called Sharon to get herself on the Wives notification list. Sharon did an admirable job of containing her glee, though Lani could hear her reporting to Steve in the background.

After that, she texted Darcy. _I need some Falcon schwag. Ladies size medium._

Much like the Wife Line, there was a symbolism to the women wearing their men's merchandise. Even Amanda and Nat, who were team members in their own right, had shirts with Bucky and Clint's symbols. She had noticed the men wore their wives symbols as well. Sam hadn't asked for this, maybe he wasn't consciously aware of it, but if her being on the Line was important to him, this would mean something as well.

In response she got a grinning emoticon and _On it._

That afternoon a box was delivered to her office. Public opinion on the Avengers had shaken a bit after the events of South Africa and Sokovia, but they still had enough fans to sell some T-shirts and accessories. Inside were two t-shirts and a tank top, all with various versions of Sam's wings. He favorite was the one with them on the back, like an angel, and the Avenger A on the front breast. There was also a mug with the wings and a leather bracelet with Falcon spelled out in beads and more wing motif. The Avengers had classy schwag.

"I had an idea." Because it was the end of the day, so of course Tony Stark was in her doorway.

"What kind of idea?" she asked, wondering if she was about to have a highly inappropriate conversation about her sex life.

He held out a silver bracelet. "Here. It takes voice commands and will call the chair to you. I just pushed it a software update."

She took the bracelet, fastening it onto her wrist. "Thank you, that will be very helpful."

"You'll be getting a packet in your email from Darcy, some information we need to put you on the Evac list. Please also include any supplies you'll need pre-stocked. Assume you'll just be snatched off the street."

Studying him a moment, she probed gently, "Do you consider this potential kidnapping inevitable?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Wouldn't be the first time. It's a cliche the bad guys can't resist. Can't take the hero head on, so you go after the weak and vulnerable they love. It makes Pepper really angry when it happens on TV shows." 

She and Pepper had once had an entire session about the bunker. "Am I now on this list because I'm sleeping with Sam or because I'm your therapist?"

"That you could unfuck my head should I almost blow up the planet again is just a bonus. Though I could spin it like that if it makes you feel better. The evacuees will need emotional support. Especially if there's a siege or we get to plan B."

"Do I want to know what plan B is?"

"Not really. It's not like any of it is optional."

Over the weeks of therapy in side conversations and double meanings, Lani had become pretty good at sussing out when Tony was being serious and when he was being melodramatic. Right now he seemed serious as the grave. "I'll give it some thought and send the list in as soon as possible."

"Good," he said. He started toward the door, then stopped. "I'd give you more space on this, but I'm not sure we have the time."

The whole group of them were starting to feel what only a few knew for certain. The Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. Lani took a deep breath and counted as she exhaled. "It's fine. It's still more warning than a truck running a stop light." Tony, despite his apparent requirement that anyone close to him needed to be an intimate acquaintance of Death, had never asked her what put her in the chair.

"Does random chaos go down easier than malice?"

"No," she said quietly. "You have all the same anger and pain, but with no one to blame."

"The betrayal aspect really sucks, though."

She inclined her head. "There you have me."

He was quiet a moment. Tony only talked about the original events that had turned him into Iron Man sparingly, but since it was probably the root of everything, she always encouraged it. Then he changed topic instead. "Call it an official job thing. Stress management in the bunker or whatever. I don't want to crowd you. But I need him to stay focused keeping Steve focused or we're all dead. I don't know what your deal is but I'm erring on the side of caution."

"Neither of us are one for casual relationships," she told him because this was a man who loved his assistant for years before realizing it and even longer before doing anything about it. Occasionally, he needed reminding that not everyone was, well, him. "We're not pretending this is anything less than it is. I know he'll be very relieved to know I'm on the list."

"Well, he did ask me about it." He grinned at her. "You know it wouldn't all that hard to arm that thing."

She smiled, because the jokes meant the moment was over. "Ask me again in another version or three."

"I'll put it on the list," he said, turning and strolling out of her office.

Blowing out a breath, she picked up her phone and found the email had already arrived from Darcy. She had definitely done her duty today. _I'm calling it,_ she texted Sam. _Heading home._

_You want company or privacy?_

Unbidden, she had a memory of his hands on her skin and felt a pleasant shiver of heat go through her. _Company._

_I'll be over in an hour with takeout._

_How about forty five minutes and I'll cook something?_

_Twist my arm._

She grinned and glanced over at her new shirts. _See you soon._


	12. Chapter 12

The snow finally melted, and spring bloomed. It was that time of year when it felt like something was about to happen. Like the whole world might be starting all over again. It was a nice time of year to fall in love.

Sam took Lani hiking on some of the more interesting trails that branched out from and around the property—something she had never been able to do before. After a winter cooped up, it was good to be out in the fresh air together. Not that they couldn't entertain each other indoors.

"It's way larger than mine but apparently more comfortable. Pepper seems happy. Full bed rest didn't go over well."

"Knowing Pepper, I don't doubt that." Tony had made a her a version of the Hoverbot so she wouldn't be stuck in her bed all the time. It had a recliner feature Lani debated having installed. "Does hers have seat belts?"

"It has a harness, because the belt wouldn't go over the belly. She looked like a disgruntled toddler when he fastened it, but I pointed out she wasn't as used to being in a chair as I was and it'd be good to have training wheels for a while. Which mollified her and got me Impressed!Tony face, so win."

They came through a row of trees into a clearing, and below you could see the lake and the entire Avengers complex. "Ah, here we go."

Lani stopped at his side, peering down. "Beautiful," she murmured. "It looks so peaceful up here."

"This wasn't part of the original parcel. It was purchased after Clint and Bucky mentioned that if they wanted to kill everyone, they could do it from up here."

She laughed. "That is one way of looking at it."

He shrugged. "I'm not really impressed by heights anymore, but it is nice to come up here."

They were a silent a moment, listening to the wind and looking down at the compound. Then Lani curled her fingers around his hand. "There's probably some sort of psychological paper to be written about a man who can fly dating a woman who can't walk."

He squeezed her hand. "Technically you can also fly."

"That's an excellent point, this paper is doomed before it starts."

He chuckled, and leaned over to rifle in the bag slung from the back of her chair in search of snacks. "I meant to tell you, apparently we have to go to Geneva next week for a dog and pony show."

"The whole group, or just the photogenic ones?"

He chuckled. "Who do you consider not photogenic?"

"Clint, in the most literal sense of being unable to be photographed. But I meant more in the. . . USO smile way, as Sharon puts it. Everyone loves a good picture of Captain America and Iron Man waving. Most people don't know what to make of Vision or the scary looking guy with the metal arm."

"They want everyone. The King of Wakanda has decided to open diplomatic relations with Europe. Which is a huge deal. But he wants to meet us. Or look at us, or something. As many as we can muster—though the only person who is non-negotiable is Amanda. He. . . really wants to meet Doc."

She arched her brow and looked thoughtful. "Wakanda is notoriously isolationist, though they're rumored to have tech superior to Stark. I wonder if her serum work has caught their eye."

"Wouldn't surprise me." He sighed. "Sharon has said enough stuff about what goes down in some of her DC meetings on this that I believe we'll have another round of my favorite game, 'Yep, we're still that racist'. I don't know how she doesn't punch people." 

"I like to think I help with that." She squeezed his hand. "Think of how much those kind of people would hate us being together."

"I think they put all minorities in one lump. We're free to mingle among ourselves."

"Eh, I've definitely met some white boys who'd be mad at you for stealing an exotic Asian chick."

"People are weird. Anyway, they were going to bring the families, and then changed their minds. Wakanda is a warrior nation and we need to look strong." He tried to properly mimic the ridiculous voice Sharon had used, which was obviously a mimic of whatever blowhard had told her that. Because successfully fighting off imperial invaders for a couple hundred years made you a country the US government side-eyed.

Lani reached over to snag a handful of the trail mix he was munching on. "For what it's worth, I think it'll be good for all of you. Low stress mission somewhere pretty. You guys can banter and bond and make your critics happy. Win-win."

"Still wish I could bring you."

"But then I couldn't wait on the Wife Line when you got back."

"You don't have to, it's not, like, a dangerous mission." Even though he really did kind of want her to.

"I don't think that matters," she said, swinging their hands a little. "I want to greet you when you get back."

She came to see him off on Monday, too. He'd never fully understood the phrase 'kiss you like you're going off to war' until she actually did just that.

"It's just a PR mission," he reminded her, setting her back in her chair.

"I don't do things by half measures, Wilson," she informed him. "Good luck, have fun. Bring me back some chocolate if you get the chance."

He grinned. Probably stupidly, but he didn't care. "I will buy an entire case of chocolate." 

"That sounds like fun." She winked and for a moment his brain froze as he tried to go over all the many possibilities. Bucky finally clapped a hand on his shoulder and dragged him up the gangplank.

"I remember being young and newly in love," Pietro said as Sam sat across from him.

"That was last year," Steve said.

"I've really grown."

"He is an old married man now," Wanda said, scowling at the mess of yarn she was holding. "Worried about bills and leaving dishes in the sink."

"I have always left dishes in the sink."

Amanda reached over and took the yarn from Wanda and fiddled a moment before handing it back to her in a more organized manner. "I told you a sock wasn't the right project for a first timer."

"I thought the challenge would distract me."

"We can turn it into a Christmas stocking," Pietro said. "Or maybe the Hulk needs socks."

"I am going to pretend that was my intent from the beginning," his sister said almost primly.

"When did you start knitting?" Tony asked, strolling past.

"Dr. Yee suggested it as a way of relaxing."

"Is it helping? Maybe I should learn." 

Sam found the mental image of Tony Stark knitting socks hilarious.

Wanda looked up. "Technically, she told me to find a hobby that would keep my hands busy. I think you already have one of those."

"Which I also closely monitor," Amanda said pleasantly.

Sam tipped his head back against his seat and listened to them banter. Steve showed him a video of Joey rolling around on the floor, apparently his newest feat. It had been such a long time since he'd so much as thought about thinking about things like children.

Not that he and Lani had talked about that yet. And he knew pregnancy would be a difficult prospect for her. But there were a lot of other options. And she'd be an amazing mother. Calm and encouraging and affectionate.

He shook his head, aware he was probably getting that stupid smile again. It must be spring fever.

*

Lani went back to her office after Sam left, mostly to catch up on paperwork. She got an email at 4 from Darcy. _It's not a worry-wait so we're making in a party. Your turn in the hot seat, Yee. Don't punk out._

She really did like these people. _Name the place, Bennet._

_The Potts Mansion at 7. Bring sugar free desserts._

_On it._

It took some googling, but she showed up at the party with two trays of sugar free petit fours and tarts. She _might_ have been trying to impress her new friends just a little.

She and Amanda had had several conversations about this, about how to balance being friends with people you were also treating. Part of her felt she should distance herself, but Amanda had made the very valid point that their situation was so unique that they needed to band together. These were the only women who would understand.

The other women lounged on a huge comfy section in Pepper's family room. Pepper herself was in her hovering recliner. Lani had been in here many a time for Pepper's sessions. Though at some point in the last week the room had acquired a ball pit, sunk right into the floor. Three toddlers frolicked in it happily.

"Tony told Ruby she could have a ball pit if she peed in the potty," Pepper called. "When I told him to offer a reward, I was really thinking more M&M's."

"Hey, whatever works," Lani said, setting her desserts down on the coffee table. "Though trying to top it for pooping in the potty is going to be interesting."

"I have faith," she said dryly.

Ada Marsh appeared beside Lani's chair. "Is that real candy?"

"It is, but it's special candy that Pepper can eat."

She made a noise in her nose. "That's not real candy." She turned on her heel and flounced off.

Lani looked over at Violet, who sighed. "Nine going on thirteen. I'm getting huffed at daily."

"It happens," Lani said, finding a spot to park her chair near Sharon. "Has she noticed boys yet?"

"I don't think so? But when we mentioned it she loudly informed me she was too young to have a boyfriend and stormed off. So either she hasn't or she's protesting too much."

"Subtlety, thy name is not Ada," Ora commented, reaching for a petit four.

"Maybe she'll like girls," Darcy said.

"That might be for the best," Ora said. "I've seen the fear one small Mexican man and one pimply cholo wannabe can instill in a 16 year old boy. I can't imagine the date that starts with, 'Meet my Dad, the Hulk. And his friends, who just happen to be over for a barbecue'."

"Aren't there a couple missing?" Sharon added. "Yes, they're in that turret over there, keeping you in their scopes."

"Look at how they were with Wanda," Jane said. "Clint and Bucky sat up in the Baron's turret and watched him pick her up. Through a scope."

Wanda had mentioned that, with a tone of exasperated affection. She would have preferred to conduct her relationship without sniper involvement, but she'd understood it was done with love. "You're presuming they won't do it for a woman," she said. "If they're doing it out of the proprietary, alpha male, 'don't get my little girl pregnant' thing then maybe they wouldn't. But I suspect motive is more along the lines of 'don't break her heart' in which case it should be gender neutral."

Violet pointed at her. "That's a good point. Tony totally threatened me before Bruce and I got serious."

"I'm sorry," Pepper said. Pepper said that a lot.

"Oh, don't be," Violet said, waving a hand. "Sameen and I were kind of impressed. Not everyone gets veiled threats from a billionaire."

"He's very protective of his family," Sharon said. "He and Steve have this in common."

One of the few things Tony would talk about openly was how he'd wanted a 'real' family growing up, and was determined to _find_ a way, if he had to, to provide that for his kids. Most of the Avengers had a very similar need, and they all filled it for each other.

"Family's important to everyone here," Jane said, echoing Lani's thoughts. "I think we figured Zev's the only one with a drama-free, intact nuclear family?" She looked over at Ora. "I guess you, too."

"Well, my parents are still married. But I wouldn't call us drama free. They cut me off for like 3 years. My brother was in prison for dealing heroin and then died in a gang dispute. My sister has three different baby-daddies." She made a face. "That sounds terrible. But their lives really are like a telenovela sometimes."

Jane blinked. "So just Zev, then."

"My parents are alive, healthy and extremely boring," Violet pointed out.

"But you have the young widow thing to add drama," Darcy countered.

"What about you, Lani?" Sharon asked. "Is your family normal?"

"Again," Darcy said before she could answer. "Teenager in a life-altering accident de-Waltons the scene, if you ask me."

"I would argue that getting through your child having a life altering accident with your marriage intact would actually give you bonus points."

Lani made a mental note to recap this conversation for her mother later. "For what it's worth, my parents are still together and happy, as far as I know. I have three siblings, all successful. But I think you both make valid points. We would not define ourselves as a normal family, but everyone's relationships came through my recovery stronger."

"It's good practice," Ora said. "Going through terrible things. You learn how to handle shit."

There was a moment of sober silence then Darcy waved a hand. "Okay, seriously. I'm not here for angst. I want naked Sam Wilson stories."

The was a spurt of laughter from the women. "Nice segue, there," Pepper said. "A plus."

Darcy sipped her drink imperiously. "You don't keep me around for my tact."

Ever the peacemaker, Violet said, "You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to. Or anything at all, really."

"I feel like I'd bitterly disappoint Darcy if I didn't offer up something." The other woman nodded enthusiastically and Lani laughed. "I will say, his upper body strength has made a great many things possible that previously weren't."

"See, I envy you that," Darcy replied. "Every time Cal picks me up we end up spending half the night icing his back."

"Our sex lives are all a little odd," Pepper said. "Maybe that's why we always talk about it."

"If it helps," Violet said to Darcy, "I don't think Bruce could lift me if I wasn't already travel sized. I imagine the day is coming he'll try and throw his back out."

Darcy patted her shoulder. "Back icing is not a substitute for sex."

"Thor lifted me a little too enthusiastically once and I broke a rib," Jane said. 

"Jane always wins the sex injury stories," Ora told Lani in a stage whisper.

"Sharon and Amanda usually tie for second," Darcy added. "I have a chart."

"Wanda has the best stories," Sharon said. "We have to do this again when she's here."

Lani grinned, because she'd probably heard some stories they hadn't. "I admit sex on the ceiling must be a lot of fun."

"Sometimes aspects of it traumatize my husband," Ora said.

"Your chair could certainly reach the ceiling," Pepper said. "Tony told me it could do like a hundred feet."

"I've got it to the ceiling, though not during sex." She tilted her head. "Sam would probably insist on a harness or something."

"Has he ever taken you up in the wings?" Darcy asked.

"No, but I've seen them and he kissed me while wearing them. The wings wrapped around us." There was a chorus of awws and squeals. "Yeah, as someone who grew up watching Disney's Gargoyles that was a fantasy I didn't think would ever come true."

"Tony's carried me in the suit," Pepper said. "It's really windy up there."

"And cold," Jane added.

"Killjoys," Darcy muttered.

Lani laughed. "Clearly better to keep it on the ground."

More food and a round of drinks were brought out for everyone by Pepper's housekeeper. On the list of things Lani had gotten Pepper to agree to do was hire full-time household help. They already had a chef who did the cooking and a cleaning crew that came in the afternoons, but now she had someone there around the clock.

"I have a confession I need to make," Darcy said.

"Drink, then confess," Jane told her.

Darcy cleared her throat. "No, that's why I'm confessing now."

There was a moment of silence. Then Jane squeaked and threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. Darcy rocked with her. "Yeah. That."

Those on the couch had kind of a group hug, with more squealing. Ora offered her some Tums. "Trust me."

This got a chuckle from the other mothers in the group and Darcy took them. "When are you due?" Violet asked.

"End of the year. Amanda confirmed it earlier this week but it's still too little to see anything on the ultra sound."

This was one of the odd things about Lani's job. She'd known what Darcy was about to say. Darcy had come to talk to her about being torn between the expectation that you wait out the first trimester, and her own inability to keep that kind of secret. Lani knew things about a lot of them that might never get shared, even on a wine-laced evening like this. 

"We're not telling our families yet," Darcy was saying. "And we'll probably start with my Dad, 'cause it'll be the least drama."

"I'm betting his will be the most?" Pepper asked.

Darcy sighed. "Yeah. Cal needs to be mentally ready for a lecture on raising his babies in God's love and he's just not there yet."

Ora patted her knee. "We told my parents by email, because I didn't want to listen to the shrieking. Out of wedlock, etc. Not that they've ever been able to stop my sister."

"Nothing brings out crazy like your child getting married or having a baby," Lani said.

"I'm doing both at once, I broke them." Ora picked up her glass of iced tea. "A toast to Baby Bennett, who will, like my child, have awesome hair."

Darcy lifted her glass. "Cheers."

It was late by the time the party broke up, the mothers carrying their sleeping children home on their shoulders. Lani could see the appeal of living close by, particularly with children. 

Sometime between leaving the compound and getting home, Sam texted her. _We're in Geneva. My hotel room is nice but lonely._

_I just left the wives club. Are you sure you don't want to have a house on campus? I could have drunk so much more wine if I'd only had to weave across the lawn._

_Drunk hovering. Is that a crime?_

She grinned. _You can get a DUI for driving a wheelchair drunk. I think the same would apply._

_I wish I was a responsible enough person to tell you I've never taken the wings up while buzzed. But I'm not._

_I'm almost certain that's illegal._ She headed upstairs to get ready for bed. _The ladies with flying boyfriends tell me it's windy and cold up there._

_Only if they're really high, or going very fast. I turn the jets off and glide sometimes, like an actual bird. It's peaceful._

_And yet, you've never taken me up._

_That a request?_

_Absolutely. You're totally slacking on the superhero boyfriend thing. You can't coast on your Magic Hands forever._

_I'll take it under advisement. I should get to bed, it's like 4AM here. I just wanted to check in with you before I crashed._

He really was a good boyfriend. _Get some sleep. I miss you and I'll see you when I get back._

_I miss you, too._

She waited a moment and when there was nothing more, she put her phone on the charger and went to get ready. She had been tempted, for a moment, to tell him she loved him. No way in hell was she saying it the first time via text. Even though, in that particular moment, she was feeling it very strongly. She really did miss him. It was going to be hard to sleep without him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains events that occur in Captain America: Civil War.

In the morning Sam was woken up by someone pounding on the door. It was too early given how late they'd gotten in, but he was one of those people that once he was up, he was up, so he went to answer it.

No one was there, but there was an itinerary slipped under the door. They had a reception that night, and before that meetings, a photo op, and a press conference. That looked just. . .great.

He checked his phone to find no urgent messages. It wasn't even three am in New York, so calling or texting Lani wouldn't do him any good. He would have liked to hear her voice, though, sleep had been hard to come by without her next to him.

Showering helped wake him up, and he made his way downstairs for breakfast. Steve, Bruce and Nat were at a table and waved at him as he made his way to the buffet line.

"Are we seriously doing a press conference?"

"We are," Nat said, voice even smokier than usual, indicating even the queen of early risers was tired. "They snuck it in last minute. I'm guessing Sharon will read someone the riot act, but it’s too late to back out now."

"Just to clarify. We're letting Tony answer unscreened questions on camera?"

"Tony's been in the public eye for decades," Bruce said. "I'm more worried about, say, Pietro. Or Bucky."

"They assure me it'll be softballs," Nat said. "This is a feel good mission. No one is digging into childhood trauma and war crimes."

"Unless you get someone trying to make a name for themselves," Steve said as he pulled up a chair. "I told them if it got out of line I'd shut it down." He sighed heavily. "They are taking _full_ advantage of the fact that Sharon stayed home." 

"I could create an elaborate illusion of us all," Wanda said, appearing at Sam's side. "And we could flee."

Steve looked over at her. "Could you convincingly fake someone?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. Clearly she'd been kidding, but now she was thinking about it. "I think so, but it would need to be like. . . a prerecorded message. A hologram. I don't think it would be interactive."

"I'll keep that in mind." He ate a little bit of his waffle, then asked, "Bruce, how are you feeling today?" 

"I feel like we've been friends long enough you could just ask me for percentage odds on the big guy making an appearance."

"Hill just told me Thaddeus Ross is going to be at the reception."

Bruce's fork froze above his plate of eggs. Sam heard him take a long, deep breath and let it out again. Then another. "I'm going to need some quiet time right before the press conference, but we should be all right. I appreciate the warning."

Wanda sank into a chair next to Sam. "I think we should have brought Dr. Yee."

"I don't disagree," Sam said. For entirely selfish reasons. "Though this is probably a Violet problem."

"If you want to bail, I will figure something out," Steve said. "Make it up if I have to. I don't want anything to jeopardize the custody case."

Bruce smiled. "I'll call Violet and probably Lani once it's late enough. I may need to make the call immediately before."

"And you should put that topic on the press conference 'no question' list," Sam said. "It's been in the news."

Nat nodded and pulled her phone out to make a note. "Worst case pull the lawyer card and we'll get someone else to ask a new question."

"Of course. And legally, I really shouldn't speak of it."

"It's only an hour," Steve said. "And there are a lot of us. It shouldn't be too bad."

It was actually, pretty bad, though not if a way any of them expected. The meetings and photo op went the way such things normally did. Boring, lots of standing around and being told what to do. Everyone handled it fine, though. Helped to be a team with a variety of personalities. The more gregarious ones made it easier on the quiet introverts.

Bruce made his phone calls and decided it was less problematic to just do the press conference. He was seated at the end, as far from Steve and Tony and the other flashy members as possible and everyone crossed their fingers he was just ignored.

The first few questions were standard stuff, mostly aimed at Steve. Reporters loved Steve and jumped on any chance to get him to talk. It became obvious pretty quickly that the questioned aimed at the women had a certain. . . theme to them. They asked Nat about shoes. They asked Wanda about hair care products—a topic quickly hijacked by Bucky and Thor complaining about perfumey conditioners. 

Then they had a question for Amanda, the doctor whose research was so interesting to the King of Wakanda that the first thing he wanted was a private meeting with her. "Your suit isn't very feminine, what do you wear under it to feel pretty?"

Bucky's, "What the fuck?" was quiet but audible.

There was a moment of laughter and murmurs, then Amanda leaned forward. "First of all, I find that question completely inappropriate." Sam didn't think he had ever heard her sound that cool and dismissive. It made him feel about four inches tall and he hadn't even done anything. "My suit is a traveling hospital. In it, I can cauterize and stitch wounds, perform minor surgery, dispense almost twenty of the most common medications, start a saline drip or perform a blood transfusion. It has a defib and I can monitor vitals on up to three patients at once. It's a marvel of medical tech. Modified versions have been donated to MSF, the Red Cross and the US Army Medical Corps. It has saved thousands of lives. What I wear underneath it is the _least_ interesting thing about it. It is also none of your business."

There was a few beats of silence while the reporter looked embarrassed. Then Tony said, "Under my suit I wear boxer shorts with pictures of beef, beer, and big wheeled trucks on them so I can feel manly."

This brought another wave of laughter and they moved one. Wanda got a question about her clothes but at least it wasn't implicitly asking about her underwear. Then someone else got the guts to ask Amanda a question about balancing her work as a mother and a superhero. Sam figured that was probably a step up from fashion but it still seemed to miss the whole world-changing medical research thing. He could hear Amanda's sigh from ten feet away.

"Hang on," Steve said. "I've had enough of this. We have five and a half fathers up here and the only one who gets that topic is a woman. You ask Stark about engineering, Thor about space travel, me about history and then turn and ask the most powerful member of my team about her _pants_?"

"Yeah, I'm with him," Tony said. "One more Cosmo question and this is over."

Clearly, the crowd didn't know what to do with this, so the answer appeared to be not asking the women any more questions. One step forward and two back, apparently. Nobody asked Sam anything either, which was fine and what he was used to. It was just pretty boring after that. 

When they were finally released to go get ready for the party, he figured it was midday back home, and he called Lani mostly to hear her voice. "Did you watch it?"

"I did," she said, without having to ask what he was referring too. "It was a little painful."

"I think we all should have gone around and talked about our underwear. I've shared a locker room with those guys, I know who goes commando."

She laughed. "Do you wear something under your suit to make you feel pretty?"

"Hey, I'm always pretty."   
"Yes, you are. That's why were such a good couple."

He sighed. "I wish you were here. On multiple levels."

"So do I. Being back here alone and just watching was very frustrating."

He sat on the end of his hotel bed. "I'll be home soon. We can lock ourselves in for a day or two."

She made a very familiar noise that sent a shudder down his spine. "That sounds just perfect."

The reception was not that bad at first. The snacks were good, the booze was free, and he got to meet T'Challa, who was a very interesting and impressive dude. Bruce had decided to beg off, which lowered the team's tension level. It was a standard issue cocktail party.

Then all hell broke loose.

It started with a crash off to his left, and when Sam turned he saw Bucky punch Steve, hard enough to make him stumble. For a brief second Sam thought maybe they were actually having a fight over something, then Bucky knocked someone else down, striding towards something on the other side of the room with a predatory determination that was decidedly un-Bucky. Cursing under his breath, Sam took off after him, relieved to see Tony and the Bartons were doing the same.

Pietro appeared in front of Bucky in a blur of speed. "Man, what-" Bucky knocked him aside like he was a pest.

Nat reached him and all Bucky managed to do was disarm her and toss her into a table. Tony managed to catch the first gunshot in the Iron Man glove that sprouted from his watch before getting cold-cocked. Throwing regular people at this was not helping. Bruce was upstairs, as was Wanda, who couldn't handle the crowd. Vision had skipped the party so some Wakandan scientists could run tests on his body structure, and. . .Thor had to be around here somewhere.

Bucky charged toward the corner where T'Challa and Amanda were having a conversation. She stepped between him and the King like she could somehow protect him from a crazed super soldier with a metal arm and said, "James!"

There was a half second of pause, which was more than he gave anyone else. Then Bucky threw a punch that probably would have broken her jaw had she not ducked and blocked with her forearm. Amanda and Bucky sparred a lot. Sam had assumed it was some sort of foreplay, since she actually didn't do much hand-to-hand combat. Now he was wondering if it was exactly for this sort of thing. He tried to land a kick next and again she dodged and blocked it with her palms.

Steve sprinted past, sporting a bruise on his jaw and Amanda shouted, "Distract him!" just as he threw himself at Bucky, tackling him. They tussled on the floor, throwing punches that would have been deadly to any of the normals. Amanda fumbled in her handbag a moment them stepped close, waited until Bucky was on top and jammed something into his neck.

He struggled a moment, and then went limp. The silence in the room was deafening. Somewhere a few feet behind him he heard Rhodey say, "I'm going to go get the jet."

There were injured people to tend to, and that kept Sam busy. He saw Amanda leave her unconscious husband in the custody of Steve and do the same. She'd never served, but she was one of the best soldiers he knew anyway.

Someone had clearly gone around to the others because by the time he was done and headed to the roof everyone had congregated and someone had packed his shit for him. Bucky was on the stretcher that pulled out of one wall, tied down with heavy metal cuffs and Mjolnr on his chest, mercifully still sedated. Bruce was monitoring him and Amanda went over without hesitation to get an update.

Steve was watching wordlessly from a few feet away. Tony was standing outside the jet, holding an icepack to his face and arguing with people from the state department. Hill gave him a push towards the plane. Sam went over to stand by Steve. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. We were talking. I got distracted for just a second and when I turn around-" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Hydra put in trigger phrases. To make him compliant. Stop gaps between wipes. The last time it happened was years ago and Amanda was able to break the programming."

"Jesus." The ramp finally closed and the jet lifted. "She carries that shot just in case?"

"Apparently. It used to be SOP, then a joke. I didn't know she still did it but. . . it's Doc. The Boy Scouts have nothing on her preparedness."

"Will he be himself again when he wakes up?"

Steve glanced over at Bucky. Amanda was now stroking his hair as he slept. "I have no idea."

*

Lani's phone chimed from the living room, but she was baking and had her hands full so she let it ring. It was an unknown number anyway.

Two minutes later, FRIDAY's voice emerged from her chair. She nearly dropped the dish she was holding because she hadn't, up until that moment, known FRIDAY was _in_ her chair. "Dr. Yee, Mr. Stark would like to speak with you. It's urgent."

"Jesus Christ." She put her plate down and shook her head. "Thank you, FRIDAY." It was not, technically, the AI's fault she'd just lost a couple years of her life. "Can you. . . patch him through?"

There was a pause, while the patching happened, and she tried not to court unnecessary worry. They weren't doing anything dangerous, and anyway it would be Steve calling her if something happened to Sam. Then when Tony came through, his voice was hushed and serious and he opened with, "Have you seen the news?"

Fear gripped her chest but she kept her voice calm and neutral. "I haven’t. I went to the store and was cooking. What happened?"

"Someone at the party used a Hydra trigger on Barnes. He beat up a bunch of us, I think he broke my nose. Doc doped him and we beat feet to the jet." 

"Jesus," she said quietly. "Are you still en route?"

"Yes. We just hit international airspace, we'll be a few hours yet. I need you to update everyone and be at the medical building when we land. Rhodes is going to put us down in the parking lot there so we can go straight in." She heard a voice in the background, saying something she couldn't make out, but it sounded like Wanda. Then he added, "Wilson's fine." 

Lani couldn't help but smile a little. "Glad to hear it. I'll get my notes and head in. I'll see you when you land."

"Thanks," he said, and then disconnected.

She wolfed down some of the food she'd made and cleaned up, then went to find her laptop. It was off network and used only for her patient notes, backed up periodically on an external hard drive. If anything catastrophic happened, as more and more of the team seemed to think was inevitable, it would be simple to destroy them and impossible to get over the network.

Setting a timer for an hour, she went over her sessions notes for Bucky for any clues on how to help him break conditioning. Her timer went off with a few pages left to go, so she packed up her things and headed out the campus. 

The medical building was all lit up. Tiffany and Pooja from Amanda's staff had come in, along with Sharon and Darcy. 

Lani went to talk to Darcy first. "Given what's going on, I think it would be good if you could get Violet. In any case, you _need_ to get Zev. I don't care if you have to send a jet up to Syracuse to kidnap him from the hospital."

For the first time since Lani had met her, Darcy looked a little frazzled. "Right, good call. Pooj! Do you know anyone in Syracuse who can spring Taschengregger for me?"

"On it!" the other woman called back.

"I already have Violet on standby. Jane's taking the kids and Ora's gonna help."

Sharon came over, Joey sound asleep in a carrier strapped to her chest. "Anything I can do to help."

Lani nodded. "I need some help moving some things around in my office. I want him brought in there."

"We're not taking him to the secure medical area?"

"Not if I have any say in it. He has very negative associations with white walls and medical equipment. My office will be a less stressful environment to try to reach him."

They got the room arranged, Zev helping when he showed up an hour later—still in scrubs from his surgical rotation. Sharon received notice the plane was landing an hour after that.

Somewhere in the room rearranging, Lani had become the point person in charge. She had Pooja and Tiffani get more sedatives as well as stuff to patch up any of the members of the team who were still injured.    
"Tony said his nose was broken. I know Amanda will want to help, don't let her. You two are both more than capable of handling whatever bumps and bruises there are."

"We've been handing Doc for years," Tiffani assured her. "We got it."

She turned to Sharon. "I'm going to ask you to be on ego management. I know Steve will want a say in procedure. I'm _guessing_ Tony will as well. I know their intentions are good, but I'm going to need time for assessment before I can come up with any treatment plans."

"Got it." She paused. "Will Wanda be able to help? I know she can. . . do things to people's thoughts."

"I'm hoping so, but if the Winter Soldier. . . personality, for lack of a better term is in charge I don't know if she'll be able to reach Bucky. They are very, very separate. More so, even, than Bruce and the Hulk."

And even then, the Hulk got angry and frustrated in an animalistic and childlike way. But he had a full range of emotions, and cared a great deal for Bruce and his family. Good and benign parts of him were accessible. The Winter Soldier, she expected, was entirely emotionless malice.

Outside, the jet set down on the asphalt.

She took the briefest moment to collect herself, then headed out the front doors to meet them.

Bruce, Wanda and Pietro were the first out, her flanked by the men. When she spotted Zev waiting she broke away from them and sprinted to him. Pietro had a massive bruise on his jaw and Tiffani dragged him to triage, ignoring his protests. Bruce came over to Lani and before he could speak she asked, "Do you need Violet?"

He shook his head. "He's worried, but understands he won't help this situation. I'm fine for now."

"She's on standby."

He smiled a little. "Thanks. I've got a couple of broken bones among the normals." He gestured behind him, where Nat was coming off with a strangulation bruise around her neck and a splint on her knee. Tony had a very bloody and swollen nose, a black eye, and was holding his left arm against his chest. "I'll take the nurses and go deal with it, Doc's not in any shape to. . ." He shook his head.

"Thank you," Lani said sincerely. "Tiffani already took Pietro back and Pooja's ready to assist." He patted her shoulder vaguely and went to go corral the injured. 

Now it was time for the main event. Steve came down first, carrying part of a stretcher, Sam at his side to stabilize. At the other end was Thor, with Amanda taking up the rear. She looked pale and worried and Lani could see an ugly bruise peeking out from under her jacket sleeve.

Moving forward, she met them at the end of the ramp. "Take him to my office, please."

No one argued, and she waited until the entire procession had gone into her office before following.

They set up the stretcher, adjusting it so he was upright. It reminded her, regrettably, of Hannibal Lector on the dolly with the mask in Silence of the Lambs. "How long will the sedative last?"

Amanda shook her head, not taking her eyes off her husband. "I gave him a second dose in the air. He should wake up again within a half hour."

Lani studied her a moment. "How is your arm?" she asked gently.

"Fractured but the bone is aligned. I'll have someone cast it later."

Right, not a fight she needed to have right now. "Someone tell me exactly what happened."

Steve and Sam did most of the talking and Sam's account was more helpful as he was detached. He also put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed lightly as he talked, more for him than her, she was certain.

"Any chance he will wake up from the sedative himself again?"

"It's possible," Amanda said slowly. "But I doubt it."

"How did you break it last time it happened?"

"I told him I loved him for the first time." She touched her bruised arm unconsciously. "He didn't even recognize me this time."

There was a noise from the stretcher, and they looked to see him awake, fighting against his restraints. He glared at the lot of them, and growled something at them in Russian.

"Anybody catch that?" Sam asked and Steve and Amanda both shook their heads.

"Jamie," Amanda said softly and his head snapped to look at her. There was no recognition there, just malice.

Lani watched him thoughtfully. There was nothing of Bucky in the way he moved or looked. But surely the man was in there somewhere. He'd been broken of this before, first by Steve and by Amanda. But he'd fought both of them this time. Clearly the Soldier saw them as opponents. Enemies. They fit in his world view somehow and no longer challenged it. What they needed was someone that would speak to Bucky, wherever he was in there.

She thought about the notes she had read, everything she knew about James Buchanan Barnes. And everything she knew about dissociation and how the mind worked. Then she took a deep breath and said, "We need to bring Edie here."

"He broke Amanda's arm," Steve said from where he was standing behind her. He wouldn't even let Sharon in the room because she'd had the baby, despite Thor and Vision standing on either side of Bucky as guards.

Lani turned to look at him. "She was standing between him and what he saw as his mission. That made her an enemy combatant, someone to go through. The Soldier understands that, so he was able to process that. Edie belongs solely and entirely to James. If you want something to bring him out, she's it."

His jaw twitched. "Hurting her is his biggest fear. If _anything_ happened-"

"I know," Lani said gently. "I am not making this suggestion lightly. But I was brought here because you needed someone to get in your heads. To help you in times like this. And I am telling you, if you want James back you need Edie."

Silence stretched a moment, them Amanda said quietly, "FRIDAY, tell Violet to bring Edie here."


	14. Chapter 14

It took nearly fifteen minutes. Wanda came in, holding tightly to Zev, to see if she could read him. "He's in there," she whispered. "But he doesn't see a way out. It's dark and cold and blank." 

That seemed to back up what Lani had been thinking, which made her feel a little better. "It's all right," she told Wanda. "Go home, we'll let you know what happens."

"If there's any way I can help. . ."

There was a knock on the door, and Violet came in carrying Edie. The little girl was in footie pajamas, cheeks flushed from sleep. She immediately held out her arms to Amanda. "Mommy Mommy!"

Amanda stepped forward and reached for her with her good arm. "Hello, Princess." She braced her on her hip and kissed her forehead. "Daddy's sick and needs to see you, baby."

Lani was watching Bucky. He was staring at Edie, breath gone fast and harsh. The detached anger was gone from his eyes and he was focused. Amanda turned and stepped a little closer to him. His breath caught and his whole body shuddered violently, as if in seizure.

Edie's eyes went wide and she reached for him. "Dada!"

Steve swore and stepped forward and Lani reached out to stop him.

Then Bucky calmed and smiled, sagging back against the stretcher. "Hi, Princess."

You could hear held breath being exhaled all over the room. Amanda made a noise like a sob. 

"You can undo the restraints," Wanda said.

Lani want to do just that as Amanda lurched forward and pressed against him, Edie between them. As soon as his arms were free Bucky wrapped them around his family, pressing kisses into Edie's hair and Amanda's face.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Steve. His voice was a little rough when he said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said softly. 

Eventually, they moved everyone to the medical treatment area, where everyone could be thoroughly examined. Amanda, Tony and Nat all had matching 3D-printed web casts. Pretty much everyone wanted to come in and check on Bucky, tell him they were happy he was back and emphasize their lack of blame. Still, Lani knew how much guilt he'd carry anyway. The look on his face when he got a look at Amanda's arm was pretty heartbreaking.

Working through this was going to take a while.

When everyone had their turn she went up to him and took his hand. He held on tightly. "Get a good night's sleep. Hug your girls. I'll come by in the morning and we can talk. All right?"

He nodded. "Thank you."

"That's what I'm here for."

He looked at her for a moment, then asked, "How did you know?"

"In the past, Steve and Amanda were able to break the programming. Amanda literally by saying she loved you. The Soldier can't process love. And there's no love stronger than that of a parent to child."

Darcy stuck her head in the room. "I've got a cart outside waiting to take you guys home if you're ready."

Bucky looked over at Amanda, who nodded. "Yeah, we're good." He hopped off the table he was on and reached for her, scooping Edie up in his other arm. Lani watched them head out and smiled, relaxing for the first time since Tony had called earlier.

She coasted out into the now-empty outer room. Sam was leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for her. "Hey."

"Hi," she said, reaching out for him. He bent and she raised the chair to meet him as he lifted her into his arms for a hug,

For a few moments, she just held him, breathing in his scent. "How are you doing?" she asked softly.

"Fine," he murmured into her shoulder. "Exhausted. So proud of you."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Wanna go home?"

He groaned a little. "That sounds like heaven."

"Come on, I have my car." He gave her one more squeeze and set her back in her chair so the could head out to the parking lot.

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face as they drove. "I've been awake so long I have no idea what day it is."

"I think it's Tuesday for another hour or two." She glanced over at him. "I'm guessing the offices will be a ghost town for a few days."

"There's going to be fallout. I can't even. . ." he shook his head. "It was bad."

"I know." She'd managed to check the internet a bit and the news was not good. "But that's a problem for the morning."

He nodded with his eyes closed. She hoped he didn't fall asleep in her car, because she didn't think she could carry him inside. Though Tony had told her her chair could lift 1800 lbs. Just in case she ever had cause to be a human forklift or something.

She pulled up in front of her house and touched his arm. "Hey. Almost there."

He inhaled sharply and was instantly away. "Right, sorry." They got out and went inside, and she gave him a gentle nudge towards the stairs up to her bedroom. She watched him kick off his shoes, yank off his shirt, and face plant onto her bed. "We need to get a king," he mumbled into the comforter.

"Yes, dear." She went to other side of the room and started to undress herself. "Steve and Sharon got one of those that the head and foot move. I was thinking it might be worth the investment."

"I agree." By the time she was getting into bed, he apparently dredged up the energy to roll over and take his pants off, and get under the covers.

Settling next to him she reached over and rubbed his back. She was work out and drained. This was not at all how she'd expected their reunion to go. Still, there was one part of it she wanted to get right. "Hey," she said softly. "I love you."

He lifted his head and grinned at her. "I love you, too."

She grinned back. "Good."

That made him chuckle, and he turned on his side to pull her closer. The shifted until they found their comfortable position, and she could feel him relaxing. "Goodnight, Lani."

His nightmare jolted her out of sleep two hours later.

He was thrashing wildly and she actually moved her legs out of the way so they wouldn't get injured. Then she reached out and put a flat hand on his back. "Sam. Sam!"

She felt him wake, and his muscles tensed. Very slowly he sat up. "Sorry."

"It's all right." She rubbed his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "I never really remember them. I just wake up to a jumble of fear and grief."

"Oh, honey." She shifted closer, so she could hug him.

He turned, wrapping his arms around her and sinking back to the bed. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you, too," she told him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I sleep better with you than I do alone."

He turned to kiss her mouth, more intense than she expected, like he was trying to drive away the ghosts of the dream. Sighing softly, she kissed him back, cupping her hands behind his neck. She had missed him, and was still processing her own stress. And God knew this was an excellent way to destress. He lifted his head only enough to catch his breath, and murmur, "Can we. . ."

She grinned and nipped at his lip. "I'm up for whatever you are." That got her another kiss and his hands under the tank top she wore to sleep. It broke only so he could yank it off. She wore nothing beneath it, so when his mouth came back to hers they were skin to skin. She let her hands roam him, humming with pleasure in his mouth. He was half on top of her, bent awkwardly to avoid putting pressure on her legs. If she was making a list of the things she loved about him, the way he had naturally and seamlessly adapted to her disability and needs would be in the top three. Whether it was his experience with vets or just his own intuition, he never seemed to need her tell him what to do not to hurt her.

Of course, his shoulders and back would definitely be on that list somewhere too.

He cupped one of her breasts, rubbing his thumb over the nipple. They were on the small side and her previous lovers hadn't paid them much attention. Which was tragic, as it turned out they were far more sensitive than she'd really realized before. The touch was light and slow, but it was torture. She moaned into his mouth, arching a little to press into his hand. He grinned against her mouth but didn't change the touch.

After another few minutes of him winding her up she leaned back enough to mumble, "More."

"Mmm," he replied, but it was clearly a noise of concession, as he broke the kiss to move his mouth further down her. She sighed in relief, then moaned again as his mouth closed around her nipple.

"Yes," she hissed, cupping the back of his head. He sucked, first gently, then hard enough to make her gasp. Heat pulsed in her and she could feel the distant tingles in her sex that meant she was physically aroused. "Good, so good."

His hand slid down and stroked her absently, almost as an afterthought. Getting a sense of where she was, perhaps. He had inhuman patience and some kind of aversion to artificial lube, so sometimes the foreplay went on a long time. Lani couldn't say she minded. 

Lani remembered, in the hazy way you remembered specific events from a decade or more past, sex with her high school boyfriend. He'd touched her quite a bit, trying to figure the whole thing out, and it had felt different than the sensations she got now. Not always for the worst. Sometimes it was little more than a tickle. Other times warm pressure that built up her pleasure, with no real sense of speed or pattern. Now, with him focusing so much on her breasts, it blended in with those sensations, almost a transference of sensation, so that it felt like he was going to make her come only by teasing her nipples.

It was too dark to see much of anything, but the motions under the blanket indicated his fingers were moving a little faster. He lifted his head and blew cool air on her wet nipple, making her cry out and buck before moving to the other one. "Fuck," she whispered, drawing her nails down his back. 

He trailed his wet fingers up over her stomach, and there was something very explicit about the action. So much was mental, and he was so good at making it very, very hot. Sex had felt good before, but this raw, naked need was something he'd taught her. He reached for one of the pillows behind them and said, "Turn over."

The words and the tone they were said in made her shiver. She obeyed, rolling over with help from him to keep from getting tangled up. He tucked the pillow under her hips, hands gentle and oddly possessive on her as he helped move her around. There was no one in the world she would let touch and move her the way he did. She had always been so adamant about her autonomy, it was nice to have someone she could trust that way.

He braced on one arm and pulled open her nightstand drawer to pull out her vibe. She couldn't really lift her hips much in anticipation, but on instinct her body tried anyway. He tucked it in the right spot, wedged against the pillow and pressed against her clit. She gasped when he turned it on, and yet he asked, "Higher?"

She whimpered, unable to form a response, and heard him click the intensity up. Her muscles clenched and the tingle turned to a pleasant burn that meant she was getting close. "Fuck, please. Come inside, please, I can't-"

That seemed to be all he needed. There was something about this angle—maybe because she couldn't see anything, or because it touched some part inside her where the nerves worked better—that felt better than any other way. She felt when he slid into her body, the burn growing more intense, building like pressure. By the sound of his groan, her body must have reacted in some way.

The bed began to rock with his thrusts and she bent her head, gripping the pillow beneath it. "Yes. Sam, yes." The feel of him moving blended with the buzz of the vibrator and the faint scrape of the covers against her hypersensitive nipples and in a few moments she was coming hard, body shaking and muscles spasming with the intensity of it. Heat flooded her, that burn consuming her until it was all she could feel.

He rocked her harder, and pressed his face into her shoulder. She swore she felt teeth. Then his hand tightened on hers where she was gripping the sheets, almost painfully, before she felt his body relax.

She panted for air, body still pulsing and gave him a moment before gasping, "Vibe."

He groaned a little and reached under her, pulling it away and then apparently losing his grip on it. She heard it hit the floor, and continue buzzing industriously against the wood somewhere in the darkness. Sam muttered, "Fuckit," against her shoulder and she started to laugh.

He carefully shifted off of her and they both took a moment to calm down. "Better?" she asked eventually, patting his hip.

"I really do love you," he replied.

"I didn't think you were lying to get me in the sack," she assured him.

"That train did already kinda leave the station."

"Yeah." She leaned in and he moved to meet her for a kiss. "I love you. I'm glad you found me."

*

Sam slept surprisingly well, considering. At least until Lani woke him getting out of bed. He touched her back. "Call in sick with me today," he said.

She looked tempted before sighing. "I need to go talk to Bucky. Before the guilt has time to fester."

He sat up. "Yeah. How about I make you breakfast while you get ready?"

"That would be great, thank you."

He kissed her temple and climbed out of bed. Her kitchen worked way better than his, so it was pretty simple to whip up some pancakes while she was showering and getting dressed. He was just putting them on plates when she came downstairs.

"You're an excellent boyfriend," she told him, parking her chair at the table. He set a plate in front of her and poured them both coffee. "I will happily play hooky with you once I'm done talking to Bucky. And anyone else who needs to vent about recent events."

"No, I know you need to be there. I'm gonna come in, actually. Some of them are coming for Helen to do bone knitting and and I said I'd help out in the infirmary. And serve as bouncer with the aim of getting Amanda and Bruce to take the day off."

"It really does take a village sometimes."

He poured syrup and contemplated his plate. "You should come meet my family."

"I'd love to," she said easily. "I was thinking about inviting mine to come visit in the summer."

"Here I was hoping there might be a vacation somewhere nice in this for me."

She laughed. "I'm sure I could twist everyone's arm into going to Hawaii instead."

"Tony does let us use his house."

"That is appealing." She ate a few bites of pancake, then added quietly, "We might not want to make any vacation plans just yet. Until we see what the fall out is like."

He sighed. "That is a very valid point."

"It's probably going to be bad. Especially considering everything else that's been brewing."

"The most likely scenario is they just shut us down. That will go over worse with some than with others."

Lani considered that a moment. "There are several I could name who would be very lost without being a superhero. Mostly I'm concerned about trying to break up the community. I think as long as the group is together they can weather anything."

He shook his head. "This is private land. It's owned by a subsidiary of Stark Industries. So by Tony. We may be ordered to stop Avenging, but everyone can still live here."

She didn't reply immediately. When she did, her voice was quiet and gentle, "Do you think your enemies in the government see you as people? Or as weapons?"

"Governments have been seeing their soldiers as weapons to be disposed of after use for centuries. Millenia."

"So you have a collection of weapons. Decommissioned, but still dangerous. Some of which can level cities. And the government, which is always reasonable and kindhearted, is going to let them sit on a private compound in New York. Together. With no monitoring or interference."

"We're still American citizens, they can't lock us up for existing." He went through the list of them in his head. "Wanda and Zev should get married."

"Yes," she agreed. "I intend to broach that next time there's an opportunity."

Sam got up to get more coffee. "When we agreed to this supervision. . .thing we've got going on, one of the things we bartered for was amnesty. Or immunity, whatever it was. In the interest of 'legal clarity'. My paperwork was about stealing my wings from Ft. Meade, firing weapons in protected airspace and helping crash the helicarriers into the potomac. Oh, and smuggling Bucky back into the country." He brought the pot over to refill hers. "My understanding was it included just about everything for everyone, up to and including everything with Ultron. I heard some of them—Nat, Bucky, etc—were hundreds of pages long."

"I imagine there's some people in congress that that drives absolutely mad." She sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "There's a lot of worst case scenarios that pass through my office. Some more realistic than others. I worry the most about Wanda and Bruce. Their situations are so unique I feel someone, someday is going to find a loophole to take them for 'observation.'" She did air quotes. "The rest will close ranks and suddenly we have a situation on our hands."

"You know they insisted Tony build the wall/fencing system to contain the Hulk? Which is bullshit, but I believe it can now keep out tanks."

She smiled wryly. "That's usually where the worst case scenario ends up."

"There's also the scenario where we have to put everyone in Tony's bunker. Occasionally he talks about getting an island."

"I think big picture is that it's going to get worse before it gets better." She glanced at her watch. "I should get going. I think it's going to be a busy day."

He touched her arm. "Hey, listen, whatever happens. . ."

She looked at him expectantly. "Yes?"

"This is still the happiest I've been in a long time."

Smiling sweetly, she leaned in and kissed him. "Me, too."

They drove in together, and Sam dropped Lani off at the Barnes house. She said she wanted to talk to him in his own environment; somewhere he felt safe and comfortable. He had a little time to kill, so he went over to Steve's.

Steve was in the living room with Joey. He could hear Sharon's voice on the other side of the doors to her office off the main hall. She sounded like she was arguing with someone.

"Started at four AM," Steve said, inclining his head in the direction of the sound.

Sam sighed. "Sorry, man."

Steve shook his head. "We knew it was coming. She's holding her own, near as I can tell." He tilted his head to listen. "When she hangs up on this one I should try to get more food into her."

"What do they want? Just to yell?"

"They started out wanting us to hand over Bucky. I think she's talked them down from that. Currently I think we're at the dick swinging phase of recriminations."

Joey was on the floor playing with some sort of dangling toy contraption. Steve sat cross legged on one side, so Sam sat on the other. "Lani went over to see him this morning."

He nodded, looking down at Joey. "I don't think he slept. Sharon said she saw lights on when she was up with the first phone calls." He rubbed a hand over his mouth, then the back of his neck. "That was . . . terrifying."

"I didn't even know that was in there," Sam said. "That someone could just flip a switch and. . ."

"Someone did it to him about three years ago, when he and Amanda were still new. We never knew how many more there were. If there were more. His memories of being the soldier are so spotty. . ." He shook his head. "I can't imagine what it's like to have your brain just shut off."

He watched Joey play for a moment. "This morning Lani and I were talking about worst case scenarios."

"Come up with any brilliant strategies?"

"For settling down the mob? Not particularly."

Joey managed to catch one of the dangly things and Steve smiled faintly. "We're in for a rough road, I think. But we'll get through. Together."

That was a very Steve sentiment. He was very sure, more of his team than himself, Sam thought. It was how he'd gotten Sam on this crazy boat to begin with. "Given the mob. Given the possibilities. I've been wondering if it would be a good idea to get myself and my loved ones behind the castle gates."

Steve looked up at him. "I'm not the landlord. But I don't disagree with you." He smiled a little. "Loved ones, huh?"

Sam chuckled. "Don't be giving me shit. Not everyone is as slow as you."

"I'm happy for you, man."

"Terrible timing, though. I don't know that she's going to want to come live in the bunker or whatever. Not like she's shackled to me or anything."

"Yeah." In the other room Sharon's yelling reached a new volume and Steve winced. "I hope she sticks around, though. And not just for you."

The yelling stopped abruptly and Sharon stormed out. "I think I need to raise my blood sugar before I start a coup."

Steve stood. "I can make that happen."

Sam pulled out his phone and texted Lani. _You might want to find space for Sharon this afternoon._

Sharon took Steve's spot on the floor and reached over to rub Joey's belly, probably to settle herself. "This is a mess," she whispered, mostly to herself.

"You shouldn't have to stand alone on the wall," he said to her. What was with his head and the medieval imagery today?

She smiled a little and shook her head. "It's all right. Someone needs to do it and I speak their language. It's just. . . this is a hard sell. They want easy answers and nothing about us is easy."

"Politicians always do, and war _never_ is."

She nodded and smiled when Joey grabbed at her fingers. "I think I'm going to ignore the next couple phone calls."


	15. Chapter 15

"If Edie hadn't been the thing that turned it off, I'd be gone right now."

"I believe there would have been other avenues to try," Lani said honestly. "But it would have taken time and containment might have become an issue."

He fidgeted on the leather couch. He had a den in their house. Amanda called it his Man Cave. All of the furniture in it he'd built himself. They had privacy. "If I thought there was a possibility I could hurt my daughter like I did my wife, then no, there would be no 'try'."

Much as she might like to, she couldn't bring herself to argue with that. "Do you know if there are more trigger phrases? Or if breaking out of one neutralizes it?"

He tipped his head back. "I think they stop working if I break out. I know I broke one once, and they replaced it. With the one Hesse used. Up until now, I didn't know there were more." He looked haunted. "How many are there?"

"There's no way to know." She paused, considering him a moment. "We could ask Wanda to see if she can find anything."

"She and I talked about that. Once. Not about the triggers, but about her changing my memories. She didn't know if she could do it."

"Changing memories is a far more complicated process. If I'm understanding the way her powers word correctly, this would be more like. . . data removal. She's able to put information into people's heads, like sign language. This would be the flip side of that coin." Lani paused. "I understand if you want to avoid people poking in your head. But this clearly troubles you. Wanda is her own best critic, if she thinks she can't do it, or that doing it would harm you in any way, she'll speak up."

"I need to try," he said. "Otherwise I'm a time bomb."

She nodded and glanced up. "FRIDAY? Could you ask Wanda to join us, please?"

"I will ask," the AI confirmed. A minute or two later, she said, "Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Taschengregger are on their way over."

Zev was a good idea, especially for anything this high intensity. Bucky didn't comment so neither did she. A few minutes later the pair came in, Wanda looking uncertain and hanging onto Zev's hand.

"Thank you for coming," Lani said. "Come sit."

Bucky moved over so they could join him on his couch, which seemed to be enough to put Wanda at least somewhat at ease. "How are you?" she asked him softly.

He sighed. "Haven't slept. It wasn't a good night."

Wanda squeezed his hand, and twitched her fingers. Bucky's eyes unfocused for a second, and then he smiled. Lani could see his shoulders relax.

"What did you do?" Lani asked.

"Called a good memory. Pretty much everyone lets me do that. Call it a telepath's hug. I don't see what it is, I just pull whatever is on the best worn neuropathway lined with endorphin triggers."

"The well-worn part is important," Bucky said. "Otherwise they're smutty." He squeezed her hand back. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help last night," she said quietly.

"That's actually why we called," Lani said. "We're hoping you can help now." Wanda turned to look at her. "Do you think you would be able to go in, locate his triggers, and deactivate them?"

"Yes," she said immediately. Surprise must have showed on their faces because she amended, "I stayed up all night thinking about it. We even called Zev's father for advice. Locating them all might be time consuming, but once I do I can dismantle them."

"Do it," Bucky said, with no hesitation in his voice.

"It's the most invasive thing I've ever done," Wanda said, looking at Bucky. "I think we should do it in a medical setting. Hook you up to monitors and all. Eli—Zev's Dad—said he'd come up and monitor your brain specifically and help me with guidance. He's a neurosurgeon, and this is kind of brain surgery."

Bucky looked at Lani and she inclined her head a little. He turned back to Wanda. "Let's set it up."

Zev tapped Lani's shoulder to get her attention, and signed, "Both of them need a good night's sleep first."

"Agreed," she signed and spoke out loud. "We'll aim for tomorrow. Contact your father, and I'll talk to Amanda about setting up a room to use in the med building."

Bucky swallowed. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Wanda said. "We're family." She signed the last part and Lani smiled at the sign for family.

"We'll help you," Lani confirmed.

"I want to try and sleep a little, maybe," Bucky said. The four of them went out of the den, to find Amanda in the kitchen feeding Edie cut up apples. "Wanda is going to try and fix me," he said.

Amanda looked tired, but her smile lit up her face. "Thank you," she told Wanda sincerely.

"We feel it's safer to have everything monitored," Lani said. "Zev's father will be coming up and we'll need a room in the med building."

"Of course." She added signing to continue, "I'll confer with Dr. Taschengregger and we'll have it set up by the morning. If I don't have the machine I'm sure Stark and Darcy can get it here in a few hours."

"He's. . . honestly really excited and I had to remind him twice of the gravity of the situation. I'm pretty sure he'd steal the equipment from his hospital if he had to," Zev told them.

Amanda laughed, which was good to see. Bucky went over to help her feed Edie and she leaned on her husband as he passed her. "He can be excited. It's an exciting thing for a neurosurgeon."

"He's been wanting to watch me work on someone for ages," Wanda admitted.

Amanda cleared her throat. "In other news, I received my first-ever phone call from royalty this morning. The King of Wakanda wanted to ask me personally about why my husband was trying to kill him. The State Department is being vague and only keeps repeating that is is being 'handled'."

"Jesus," Bucky mumbled. Amanda reached up and caught his hand.

"What did you tell him?" Lani asked.

"The truth. All of it, including the former brainwashed stuff. He was. . . remarkably understanding about it, all things considered."

"He's a very intelligent man," Wanda said. "Kind, clear-headed. Fearless but not reckless. Somewhere between Steve and Thor, on the Mjolnir's worthiness scale, if I had to guess."

Lani couldn't help but smile. "Sounds like he'd fit in just fine around here."

"That's exactly what we need," Amanda said dryly. "A king for Tony to posture around. In any case, he said he'd try to use his influence to get people to back off. Big misunderstanding, no harm done, that kind of thing."

"See?" Wanda said.

"We should send him a gift basket or something," Bucky said, sitting to hand Edie some apples.

"He's interested in my serum research. When this has settled maybe we can take a trip to Wakanda. I can do a conference or something."

"Bet the weather is nice there," Bucky said. "We could take a vacation."

"Wouldn't that be novel."

Lani checked her messages. One from Sam telling her she should expect to make time for Sharon. One from her mother who'd heard about Geneva. One from Sharon asking to see her. One from Bruce asking for the same. Another from Sam, offering to bring lunch to her office.

"All right," she said. "It looks like I need to be going." She looked at Bucky. "Get some sleep. Medically induced if necessary."

"I've got him," Amanda promised before he could answer.

"Good. Same goes for you," she told Wanda.

"I know."

"I'll see you all tomorrow. I look forward to meeting your father, Zev."

"I believe so is he. My mother sings your praises."

They said their goodbyes and she headed over to the Rogers' as it was next door. She'd see Bruce in her office, since getting privacy in his house was near impossible. But she felt like Sharon would like to be home, just as Bucky had.

She rang the Rogers' doorbell, and was surprised to find the door opened by Sam, wearing the sleeping baby in Sharon's carrier. "Hey."

Lani pressed a hand to her chest. "Oh, my God I can actually _feel_ my ovaries ticking."

He laughed and tried to swallow it. "Shh, come on in."

She did so, waiting for him to close the door behind her. "Are the Rogerses asleep?"

"I think so. Steve was trying to get Sharon to eat and I offered to put the baby in this thing so they could have a little peace. He crashed, I said I'd stay if they wanted to nap themselves." He went into the living room. "Chandelier stopped swinging twenty minutes ago, so they might actually be sleeping."

"You're a good friend," she told him solemnly. "I came to see if Sharon wanted to talk but a nap and sex is probably a good substitute."

He rubbed the back of Joey's head absently. "You wanna come have a sandwich? Since I'm stuck here."

"I would love one."

In the kitchen, she watched him pull things out of their fridge and lay them out on the counter, moving carefully so as not to wake the baby. It was funny to realized they knew each other well enough he could make her a sandwich without asking her any questions.

"How are you doing?" she asked him quietly as he assembled their meals.

"I don't know," he said. "Feeling a little like I was put up in the sky just to watch."

"It's hard to feel helpless when someone you care about it hurting."

"You think he'll be okay?"

"I do. We have a plan to help him. And he has Amanda and Edie and a big, understanding family. That counts for a lot."

He brought the sandwiches to the table and sat across from her, taking a bit of his sandwich carefully over Joey's head. She watched him a moment, eating her own lunch. Finally, she said, "My position here is pretty unique and, if I'm honest, breaks a lot of ethics guidelines. So if you ever needed someone to talk to, I'd be happy to listen. Or find you someone objective to do so."

"I know about the guidelines, but I'm not sure anybody here was going to trust someone who wasn't all enmeshed. Who didn't have skin in the game."

"People opened up more when I started crossing boundaries," she admitted. "Tony seems to require I have a drink in my hand before he gets into anything important."

"That that man is _getting_ into anything important is frankly a miracle."

"Mr. Stark is making excellent progress," she said, teasing a little. Sam smiled and she lifted a shoulder. "Without getting into specifics I think he's a lot more honest with himself about his motivations. His instincts haven't changed, but he's learning to take a step back and think before acting."

"That's a good lesson for a lot of people." Joey made a mewling noise and Sam rubbing his back. "Hey, little man."

Lani popped the last bite into her mouth. "If he's waking up can I hold him?"

He grinned. "Will that soothe your ovaries?"

"I think it might."

He watched her a moment. "You know, there's actually kind of a page 2 to the Awkward Questions List titled 'Later in the Relationship'."

She arched a brow. "Baby making?"

"We don't have to talk about it _now_." Joey's whine was increasing in volume, so Sam stood up to take him out of the carrier. "He probably wants a bottle."

She reached out expectantly and he handed him over. Sam went to get the bottle ready as she cuddled Joey. He immediately started rooting at her chest and she laughed. "Nope. Not happening, buddy."

"He does that to everyone. Even me. Hope springs eternal and all."

"Determination runs in his veins." Sam handed her the bottle and she shifted the baby to pop it in his mouth. He started sucking happily, making little contented noises. "Oh. It made the ticking worse."

"He's a cute kid. I mean, very pasty. But cute."

"Ours would probably be less melanin challenged," she agreed. She glanced up at him. "Or are we not talking about it?"

He went back to his chair. "I suppose awkward question number one is. . .can you?"

"Physically, yes. Those parts all work and I know other women with similar injuries that have had babies with minimal complications. A c-section is probably inevitable, though. I can't push."

"So you can, then, do you want to?"

She looked down at Joey again, rocking him a little. "I do. I wrote it off for a long time. Thought maybe I'd try to adopt someday. By myself. But I'd like to try for my own."

"Good," he said quietly. "Me too. When there's less chaos."

Something loosened in her chest. Or maybe it tightened. It wasn't a feeling she could really describe. Just a shift in the way things were. But she smiled widely and nodded. "Okay."

He got up and rummaged in the Rogers' cabinets for snacks. He was always hungry. "Why did you write it off?"

"I didn't think it was likely I'd find anyone to be with long term. Pregnancy is doable, but doing it alone scared me. To be honest, I don't even know if I'd be allowed to adopt. They're very strict about parent health."

"That's crazy," he told her around the cookie in his mouth. "You're fantastic."

In that one instant she loved him more than she had words for. "Thank you. I think so too." Joey finished his bottle and she shifted him to burp him. "I still might like to talk about adoption. There are a lot of kids that need homes."

He chewed and swallowed his cookie. "Truth. And the long waiting list people complain about is for white babies. Which I personally don't want."

"I'm happy with anything," she agreed. Joey let out a belch worth of Thor and she resettled him. "Sounds like we're on the same page."

"I mean it, you know," he said after a moment. "You are the best. I'm an Avenger. I could probably have anybody. I want you."

She might have been blushing. Her cheeks were admittedly warm. "Thank you," she said quietly.

He came around the table, leaning over the baby to kiss her. "I love you. Whatever happens."

Catching his hand, she gave it a little squeeze. "I love you back. Whatever happens."

*

When Steve and Sharon came back downstairs, Sam left so Lani could talk to Sharon, and hiked across the compound. He needed to talk to the Landlord. FRIDAY let him in when he rang the bell. Pepper was in the living room, in her hover recliner, watching Ruby play in her ball pit. "Hi, Sam," she said, sounding tired. "He's in the basement."

"Thanks," he said. Everyone had taken the day off today. Tony had a massive workshop on campus, but he still had space in his own basement for tinkering in his private time. Why it was in the basement, Sam didn't ask. Tony had a lot of quirky coping mechanisms.

Today he seemed to be working on the hover/robot legs he and Lani were going around over. Sam made sure to make noise as he came in and Tony looked up. His face looked like he'd gone five rounds with Mike Tyson. "Hey, man," he said, sounding and looking tired.

Everybody was tired. "You sleep last night?"

"FRIDAY assures me I got about three hours. Sure didn't feel like it." He tapped the weird looking tool he was holding on the table. "Of course, I do only get 1/16th of the bed. A third of that is Pepper, the rest is Pepper's pillows."

"She'd probably forgive you if you slept in one of your guest rooms." The house was huge, so it had to have guest rooms.

"Probably. But then I wouldn't get even three hours." He tossed the gadget in the air and caught it. "What can I do for you? Ironsides send you 'cause she was busy with the worse off ones?"

"She'll like that nickname. No. Though I am on my way to the med building to help Dr. Cho. You should come get the wrist fixed."

He glanced down at said broken wrist and sagged a little. "Right." He tossed his tool on the table and scooped up his phone. "How are Doc and Barnes, do you know?"

"Better. Wanda's going to help him. Try and get it out of his head."

"Good call. Hard to sleep when you think you're a danger to the people sleeping next to you."

"Familiar with that feeling?"

"Intimately." He shoved his hands in his pockets and gestured at the door with his chin. "Shall we?"

Sam wasn't going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. He thought he'd have to nag more. "While we're talking. . . is that offer of a spot in the village still good?"

Tony gave him a sharp look. "Finally drinking the Kool Aid?"

"Something like that." Upstairs they waved as they walked past Pepper, and Tony told her he was getting his wrist fixed. "Or maybe the worry is just contagious," Sam said once they were outside. 

"Ah." They walked in silence a moment. "Might not have time to build you something from scratch. But we can probably find you a cushy place in the temp housing."

"I can live with that. Maybe it will be temporary. But. . . yeah. Math is different when it's not just you."

Tony didn't respond right away. "I'm glad for you," he said finally. "It's good not to be alone."

"Support systems are very necessary."

"We'll have Darcy get you some space. And really. . . Lani ought to be in here already. This shit goes wrong enough, and she's out there with probably more intel on us than anybody. Even more than Doc. She virtually defenseless—though I offered to arm the chair—and she's not Doc, she's not going to hold up under torture."

Sam actually flinched. "Jesus, Tony."

"Sorry. I know not everyone thinks-" He ran a hand through his hair. "This is the world we live in. And shit like that. . . it's on the worst case scenario list. I'm just trying to keep everyone safe. Safe and together."

He sighed. "I don't disagree. I just don't like thinking about it."

"I don't like thinking it about either, but sometimes I don't have a choice."

"I'll talk to her. Though I'm going to, you know, not say that."

"That's why you're talking to her and not me."

Injury repair took up most of the afternoon. Tony had not just the wrist but the nose and what turned out to be a decent orbital fracture. Nat took a while—Sam was surprised, looking at the x-rays, just how badly Bucky had injured her. Zev had come in, and he knew far more about how Helen's equipment worked, so Sam mostly manned the regular infirmary traffic.

When Amanda came in at 4 to get her arm fixed, she looked like she'd at least gotten some sleep.

"He's napping with Edie," she told him as Zev scanned her arm. "It was the only way he'd sleep."

Zev put the scanner wand back in its cradle and let the machine process the input. "When my Dad was a kid, my grandfather would sometimes sleep on the hall floor in front of the kids' bedroom doors." 

Amanda looked over at him. "Which camp?"

"Mauthausen. They were Austrian." He turned to tap the screen for a moment. "Seventeen. Oldest son. Only one that made it out." He shook his head. "I am so glad he was dead by the time Hydra Part Two happened." 

They were silent a moment, then Amanda turned to Sam. "When we find out who triggered him. . . I'm not going to be an Avenger that day."

"You're probably not going to be a doctor," he said. "You'll still be an Avenger. Not a one of us are as upright and squeaky clean as Steve looks on TV. Not even Steve."

She inclined her head. "True. I'll probably have to start a line."

Zev leaned into Amanda's line of sight and told her, "Hold still." She obeyed and Sam saw her jaw tighten as the machine started doing whatever it did. It made him think of Tony and his torture talk. He'd never experienced it, but he imagined having your bones knit back together didn't tickle.

When it was done, Amanda said, "I have some work I need to do to prep for Wanda tomorrow, so I'm going to my office. Zev and I can handle whatever comes in."

He needed to go talk to Darcy anyway, so he didn't argue. He bid them a good afternoon and went over to the admin building to see if she was working today.

She was there, all right, but she was asleep on her office couch with the door open. He knocked as loudly as he could on the wall. She jumped, actually losing contact with the couch, and landed on her ass on the floor next to it blinking rapidly. When she focused she looked over and glared at him. "Why?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I don't know. I'm making a spleen or kidneys or something." She braced a hand on the couch and hauled herself up. "It's tiring."

That didn't make any sense at all. He offered her a hand to help her up. "You awake?"

She gripped his arm and got to her feet. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm pregnant. Everyone talks about the food, no one mentions the narcolepsy."

"Oh, hey, congratulations."

"Thanks. It's still new. What's up?"

He sighed. "I need to make arrangements for some temporary base housing. Two units, but like near each other? I think that's about where we're at now."

She walked back to her desk. "What is this, Prodigal Avenger day? I have to find space for the Rhodeses, and now you, too."

Sam blinked in surprise. "Vanessa is coming to Ithaca? Really?"

"Apparently. What's that thing the Bartons both say. . . There's bacon in the trees."

"Okay. Shit is officially fucked up."

"Yeah. I picked a great time to reproduce." She sat at the desk with a little grunt and started typing, bringing up architectural plans. "The temp apartments are kind of. . . hotel room and we really don't have time to do something from scratch. I'm guessing you feel about a trailer the way Rhodey does?"

"I think I'd rather the hotel room."

"Right. I can do that immediately, which is what this sounds like. We do have an unused building south of Avengerville. Was originally going to be a rec center/gym for the non-team members but interest wasn't there. If I call my contractor up now I could probably get it retrofitted into a tri-plex or something in a couple weeks."

"Sounds good. Hold us a temp apartment in the mean time, okay?"

"Already done. Just let me know when you're moving in."

"I do need to talk to Lani first. Then I'll let you know what timing looks like."

"Sounds good. And good luck," she added with a wink.


	16. Chapter 16

It was well past dinnertime when Lani finally headed home. Violet had insisted on feeding her, and she'd texted Sam that he was on his own. Funny how it had become so assumed they would eat meals together that only the contrary merited discussion.

She was wrung out and in no mood to do anything but sleep, but she didn't want to be alone. Plus his upstairs bathroom had a clawfoot tub in it. Using a real bathtub like that again was one of those very tiny things she'd lost that having a partner suddenly made possible.

Lights were on when she got there, so she gave only a perfunctory knock before opening the door. "Honey, I'm home!"

He was stretched on the couch and sat up. "Hey. Wanda texted me and told me to run a bath."

Lani shook her head, coasting over to give him a kiss. "Friends with a psychic is definitely full of perks."

He grinned. "You need help getting in, I take it?"

"I do. I feel we've reached a point in our relationship I can use you like a forklift."

Sam laughed. "I promise you; I will enjoy lifting you in and out of a soapy tub."

"Just don't drop me." He kissed her again and followed her as they headed upstairs. "How was your day?" she asked.

"Surprisingly busy," he said. She could smell fragranced steam from the hallway. He must have dumped some of her body wash in there to make the bubbles.

"How did the bone mending go? I know Amanda was trying to avoid mentioning to not upset Bucky, but her arm was clearly hurting."

"Worked pretty well. That machine is something else. Repaired a torn ligament in Nat's knee, too." They stopped at the bathroom door. Getting her chair, even this one, in there was a pain. She couldn't even turn. He helped her get undressed in the hall, something he clearly enjoyed. Getting her slacks off was generally one of the least dignified moments of her day, but Sam managed to make it foreplay. It was the little things, sometimes.

When she was nude he scooped her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, cuddling into him a moment. He kissed her temple, and carried her into the tub. She checked the temperature with her hand and wrist before letting him lower her down. The bubbles frothed up over her breasts and she sighed happily, leaning back. "I've been looking forward to this."

"You want me to wash you hair?" he asked.

"I don't not want you to wash it." She closed her eyes. “I'm starting to talk like Tony."

"Now that frightens me."

She smiled. "Maybe I'm just tired."

He kissed the top of her head and then took her hair out of its bun. She dunked herself while he grabbed her shampoo. She was halfway through enjoying her scalp massage when he said, "I actually did talk to Tony today."

"Oh? What about?"

He hesitated. "Staying in the compound for a little while."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "You're spooked."

Sam sighed. "One of Tony's particular fears is that someone looking to hurt us will find the weakest link and use it to break everyone. Actually, I'm pretty sure you already have heard about that. And I am in no way getting paranoid about evil villains showing up in the dead of night to tie you to the train tracks."

"Oh, is this about his torture list?" Sam leaned back to look at her and she shrugged. "One of the rare times I got him to speak about his time in the cave, he told me he rates everyone he knows on whether or not he thinks they could withstand torture. It's a. . . processing thing."

"Yes. But there was a point buried in all that _him_ -ness. If the government decides they want Bucky. Or Wanda, or Bruce or whomever, they've got to know there's a chance it could require tanks. They'd need proof they're 'dangerous', and they're going to show up at your doorstep with a search warrant."

"And break out the thumb screws when I refuse?"

"Take your notes. Trash your house. Lock you up somewhere and lie. There are a number of unpleasant scenarios that don't immediately leap to Gitmo."

She had no actual objections to moving, though she'd miss her old house full of character and custom kitchen. This was, however, a train of thought she wanted to follow to the end. "So you want us to move to the compound for my protection?"

"I would like to move to the compound so I'm not the only Avenger arrested because I'm the only one they can reach. The Rhodeses are coming from California for, I imagine, similar reasons. I am. . . recommending you do the same. It's hopefully temporary."

Reaching up, she ran her fingers along his jaw. "You know if you want to ask me to move in with you there are easier ways."

"I don't want something like that tangled up in all this drama. There's room for you to have your own place."

She smiled and resettled against the edge of the tub. "Of course I'll move to the compound."

His eyes searched her face. "Do you want to? Come stay with me?"

This was a strange conversation to have naked in a tub and looking at him upside down. Such was her life. "At the risk of tripping onto Page Three of Awkward Relationship Conversations, yeah. I think I'd like to live with you."

He grinned and leaned over to kiss her, also upside down. “Well, all right, then."

"Communication is important in a relationship," she told him solemnly.

"I do worry about you," he said quietly, going back to rinsing her hair. "I suppose that's normal."

"It is. If you ever try to hinder my freedom because of your worry then we'd have a problem. But a little worry about your partner is normal, especially if your partner is hindered in some way." She smiled. "I worry about you, too."

"Worry about your partner when they have a very dangerous job is also normal."

"Sounds like we're nice and normal."

He rubbed her neck, digging his thumbs into tense muscles. "I'm happy with that."

She groaned, unable to help herself. "Me, too."

"You want me to leave you to enjoy your bath?"

"Your presence does not limit my enjoyment," she murmured. "But I understand if it's torturing you."

"Depends one your agenda for after the bath, I suppose."

"I was thinking of putting out."

His hands slid off her shoulders and beneath the water to her breasts. "Can I help in your decision making process?"

Sighing, she let her eyes drift shut again. "You are very persuasive."

He kissed the spot where her shoulder met her neck, and stroked his thumbs over her nipples. "I know all your spots now."

"Yes, you do." Her nipples tightened, heat pooling through her. She turned her head and kissed his cheek and jaw.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be disrupting your bath." He didn't sound very sorry. "Should I stop?"

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Touch me."

She felt as much as heard the rumble of his laugh. "I am. I know you can feel it, I'm nowhere near the DMZ."

She kissed his cheek again. "Don't make me bite you, Wilson."

One eyebrow went up. "That on the menu now?"

"If you ask really nicely."

He finally moved one hand down, submerging most of his arm so he could strum her clit with his fingertips. The warm water moved with his hand, something about the sensation sending an intense shot of pleasure through her. Because she was floating a little, she could actually rock her hips up to him a little. He turned and kissed her on the mouth, stroking her slowly, then faster.

"Yes," she mumbled. "Yes, Sam." She was starting to feel the pressure, the burn, and tried to press into him more firmly, chasing it. 

It was sharp and sudden and intense, when it ripped through her. She might have actually screamed, and she swore she could feel it in her toes, despite having not felt her toes in fifteen years. "That's my girl," he whispered, pride and affection in his voice.

Gripping the tub so she didn't go under, she sagged back against the hard edge, panting. "Oh. Fuck," she breathed.

He chuckled. "Good?"

"Mmm. Very good." She opened her eyes. "Wanna get me out of here?"

He trailed soapy fingers along her arm. "More than I can possibly say." She reached up for him and he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her as he lifted her out of the tub. It was awkward and crooked and he got soaking wet as he carried her to his bedroom to dry her off. He managed to make a production out of carefully drying her off, one that netted her a second orgasm.

"You spoil me," she murmured. He was lying next to her, rubbing her shoulder as she calmed. 

"I adore you," he replied. It was chilly in the room, and he pulled the blankets up around them. He really had a very comfortable bed.

She stroked his cheek and down his throat. "You make me so happy," she said softly. "I gave up on that."

He kissed her lightly. "See? Patience is rewarded."

"Yeah." She grinned. "Now when I tell clients that I can do it with authority."

Speaking of patience, she really ought to return the favor. . .but she felt liquid, and her exhausting day tugged at her and made her eyelids heavy. And he was tucking the blankets around her gently. She mumbled an attempt at an apology as she started to drift off.

When she woke it was morning. The bed was empty, and her chair was floating next to it. She smiled and stretched. She had the _best_ boyfriend.

It was a nice start to what would be a long day. Once she got to work, they got everything set up for Wanda's. . . treatment? Lani didn't know what to call it. All of the equipment had arrived right on time.

Eli Taschengregger was a quiet, reserved man who looked a great deal like his son. He was surprisingly friendly—a lot of neurosurgeons she knew were kind of jerks. Anything with that kind of prestige tended to attract a certain personality. "My wife really wanted to come up with me to say hello, but she couldn't get her schedule clear."

Lani shook his hand, smiling. "I understand. I'll try to find some time to come down and have a glass of wine with her. Catch up."

He circled the room, double checking the equipment. Wanda and Zev stood off to the side, holding hands, Wanda doing some of her meditative breathing in preparation. They were just waiting on Amanda and Bucky.

They arrived a few minutes later, holding hands in a rare show of PDA. They both had stoic game face on, but nerves almost shimmered off of them.

Lani moved to greet Bucky. "You can change your mind."

His throat worked and his jaw twitched. "I want them out of my head."

"I'm ready," Wanda said.

Bucky sat on the exam table. Amanda stepped in front of him, and then held her hand out towards Eli. "I'll put the electrodes on." Very wise, given his history. This entire procedure was likely to be very triggering.

Eli handed them over and Amanda set them up, with a little guidance from him. He turned to the monitors to make sure they were giving him good readings and Amanda shifted so Bucky could see her without straining. Lani couldn't hear what she was murmuring to him, but it kept him still and more or less calm, which was all that mattered.

"Wanda," he said. "We're ready when you are."

She nodded and stepped closer, holding Zev's hand. Her other hand came up next to Bucky's temple. She tilted her head and twisted her fingers. There was a soft red glow between her fingers and she closed her eyes. What Lani could see of the monitors showed heavy activity.

He jerked a little, and Amanda gripped his hands. "Could this activate them?" she asked.

"Unlikely but possible. I can contain him if that happens." Lani was proud of how steady and confident Wanda sounded.

Amanda looked uncertain and Lani spoke up. "Wanda, would it help you to talk it through?"

Wanda's head tilted the other way and Lani knew she understood what she was really asking. Amanda was not a woman who liked to be out of control. "I picture minds in different ways. Some are like buildings. Doors. Windows. Rooms. His has mazes. I'm walking through them, looking down all the paths for things that don't belong."

She could see Amanda's shoulders relax, and then so did Bucky's. 

"I can see the text of your thoughts. It's like. . . handwriting. I can see what yours looks like. But there are things in almost a different handwriting. Those I'm going to erase."

Lani saw Bucky's hands squeeze Amanda's. "Okay."

Wanda's hand moved, as if she was plucking a flower, or pulling a thread. Eli made a noise, eyes glued to his monitors. Wanda stilled. "Okay?"

"Yes. I apologize. Everything looks fine. You're just lighting him up in ways I would have thought impossible."

"Welcome to the new frontier," Amanda said.

"There's another," Wanda said quietly, making the same motion.

It was a slow process. Amanda and Lani both checked in with Bucky, but he insisted he was fine, despite arching and jerking occasionally. 

Finally, Wanda's hand relaxed. "I think I found them all. I'm double checking." Suddenly she made a sharp noise, gasping and stepping back. _Everyone_ looked at her. She held up her hands. "No, it's okay. Opened a door I shouldn't." She touched Bucky's shoulder. "You have things locked away. I kept them there. It was just a confusing flash, I didn't see anything."

His jaw clenched. "Can't you get rid of them."

"No," Amanda and Eli said in unison before she could answer.

Wanda smiled a little sadly. "I can't take out memories like that. I would leave holes. Make things unstable. Like knocking down walls in a house without knowing where the electrical and plumbing is." Zev gave her a funny look. "I've been in his head for over an hour. There's a lot of handyman stuff."

"Not even the things that I can remember clearly? There are things I can still _see_ , just by closing my eyes."

Wanda glanced over at Eli, clearly uncertain. "It just. . . doesn't feel right. The triggers weren't meant to be there. But the memories - even the bad ones - they're in your handwriting."

"Could you show him a different version of the memory?"

She looked over at Lani, brows up. "I- yes. I could. Why?"

"It's a therapy technique, related to CBT. Taking a traumatic memory and altering it to a less hurtful outcome. Usually it's done with role play or journaling. But you have access to his actual memories." She looked at Bucky. "I suggest starting with something recent and low impact, to try it and see if it's helpful."

Wanda nodded. "That is something I could do. It would be the same technique I used to. . ." She took a shaky breath and said quietly, "Hurt you all."

Bucky released one of Amanda's hands and reached for Wanda's. "Hey. That was a different life. We're square, just like I said."

She nodded. "You have a memory you'd like me to start with?"

"I was going to say that one but. . ." He looked up at her. "I can't recall it."

Wanda smiled. "It was in my handwriting. It was the first one I found to remove."

He smiled a little, then thought a moment. "When Steve got shot and Amanda told us he was in a coma. I didn't react particularly well." Amanda stroked his hair. "It's not a big deal, but I'd like the chance to handle it better."

Wanda nodded and brought her hand to the side of his head again, fingers curling. It took a few minutes, and a range of emotions shifted across his face, but at the end, he smiled. Wanda dropped her hand and he opened his eyes. Over Eli's protests, Bucky sat up and looped an arm around Wanda and hugged her tight.

"You're a good kid," he murmured into her hair.

She leaned back and smiled. "Thank you. Are you hungry? Because I am starving."

"I'm always hungry."

Amanda stepped forward. "Electrodes."

Bucky sat still as she removed them all. "There are probably a lot of people that would benefit from that."

Lani nodded. "I can think of several."

"Tony," Amanda said, winding the sensor cords up. "Like, yesterday."

"That is much less difficult," Wanda said. "I could do it for anyone."

"I can stick around," Eli said. "If he's willing we could do it after lunch. It probably doesn't need monitoring, but for the first time it wouldn't be a bad idea."

Lani looked at Amanda. "You want to go suggest it, or should I?"

"I actually think this is better coming from you."

"All right. FRIDAY, where's Tony right now?"

"He is in his workshop at the lab. Shall I summon him?"

Tony wasn't big on crowds or strangers - which Eli was - or being ambushed. And he always dealt better with things in his home turf. "No, I'll go to him." She looked over at Wanda and the Taschengreggers. "Why don't we officially break for lunch? I'll talk to him and get in touch with you about reconvening in the afternoon?"

"Sounds good."

"Don't forget to eat yourself," Amanda told her.

Bucky gave her an amused look and Lani grinned. "I never do."

She headed over to the lab building. It was probably more R&D or just general "science" but things here seemed to get named by gestalt and lab was what had stuck. There were three stories worth of labs and bullpens with people tinkering and brainstorming. Tony's private stuff - accessible only to him and Bruce Banner - were in the basement.

Hard rock blared down the hallway as she approached the doorway. She covered her ears and floated over to him. He had something very small and finely made that he was tweaking with a pair of tweezers that didn't look much bigger than strands of hair. Not wanting to disturb him, she waited until he noticed her and turned down the music.

"How would you like to be part of an experimental study?" she asked.

"What part of me would be studied, and by whom?"

"Your brain and Zev's dad." He tilted his head and she waved a hand. "Let me start at the beginning." He'd know, through the grapevine at least, what they were doing with Bucky and his triggers, so it was mostly about the memory altering. "His brain activity was consistent with remembering something on his own and the experience seemed very positive. Amanda suggested you as another candidate. Since Eli is here with the equipment, I'd like to get a couple more people to attempt it." She hesitated, then threw out the hook she hoped would get him sold. "And possibly talk to you about automating it."

He looked at her and squinted, an expression that meant she had his undivided attention. "Automate it. How?"

"Virtual reality? We take the readings from what Wanda does and isolate the parts of the brain that light up. Then find ways to light them up with electrodes and replicate the experience without needing a psychic."

He watched her a long moment. "A chance to change the past. That's. . . priceless."

"For a lot of us." She knew she had him. And she knew he'd throw himself at this with the singleminded way he did everything else. Not just for him, but for the world of people who wanted to take back cruel words, or make a different choice, or say goodbye.

He gazed at his desk, and she could almost see him see him riffling through his long list of regrets. "I want to say goodbye to my parents."

"I would not suggest starting with that," she said gently. "Bucky started with a fight he had with Amanda. But we'll make that a goal."

"Well, I've certainly had many fights with Pepper."

She smiled. "There you go. Think small."

"Okay, then. When do we start?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end of Lani and Sam's story. Thank you call for reading and commenting!
> 
> The end of We Can Save Tomorrow if we Try will post sometime next week. I'll post a State of the Fanfic address on Tumblr after that.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy your August!


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